Mental
by MaraPore321
Summary: When Bella Swan moved to Forks for work experience at a local mental care 'Home', the last thing she expected was to have feelings for the murderous Edward Cullen.  Rated for the language, extreme violence and sexual content. Not for sensitive readers.
1. Goodbye, Edward

**Full Summary: **When Bella Swan moved to Forks for work experience at a local mental care 'Home', the last thing she expected was to have feelings for the murderous Edward Cullen. Especially when her boyfriend, Jacob Black, wants to ask her a special question...

Edward Cullen had always had problems. Unable to resist the urge to kill others, and incapable of shunning the monster inside his head, he gets rejected by his foster father, proof that he was never really loved. Then, five years later, he meets a woman who could change everything...

**Story Notes:** This story has dark themes. Please do not read if you are sensitive to murder, extreme violence, sexual content. My mind is weird.

I own nothing except the words on the page, Meyer owns all (lucky so-and-so...)

Rated for the language, extreme violence and sexual content. All human.

I would appreciate any feedback and comments as this is my first try at a fanfic. I'm not even sure anyone would read this, because of the themes and such. But if you don't like, tell me why. I'd be glad to know. Also waiting for Twilighted to validate.

* * *

"Goodbye, Edward."

_**EPOV**_

I lay in the soft bed, turning restlessly under the sheets. I had woken up about an hour ago, and could not get back to sleep. I turned to look at the time on clock on the bedside table. Three in the morning. Sighing, I sat up, but as soon as I did, a surge of energy hit my lower abdomen. It took a while for my mind to acknowledge what my body really wanted.

Damnit, it was time.

I jumped out of bed, and took a long hot shower. Stalling. After drying myself, I dressed in a fresh crisp white shirt and some faded gray jeans. My hair looked a bronze mess, but then again, it always did. I walked over to the large sliding door, feeling the slight draught as I opened the door and stepped outside.

I jumped from the first floor motel balcony, the adrenaline rushing through my veins. This was most convenient time of night, when everybody was asleep, unable to defend themselves. It was when I could do the most damage, and attract the least attention simultaneously.

It was when I could kill.

I landed on my feet, into a neat crouch. I rose slowly, purposefully, and walked along the street. The monster inside of me was stirring, not fully awake yet. I could still hear my rational Voice ranting in the deep depths of my mind. _Go back_, he warned sternly. _You vowed yesterday would be the last time._

I reached a small corner shop and entered gracefully. There was only one person inside apart from the cashier, who was sleeping on the job. It was a young woman with unprofessionally dyed blonde hair. She was maybe seventeen, like me, but she dressed considerably older, with large gold hoops in her ears and bright red platform heels to go with her black leather miniskirt. She was smacking gum loudly and reeked of smoke, even from across the store.

I walked gracefully towards her, standing close behind her as she looked at some cigarette packets. She was unaware of my presence, and I smiled. That was the way I liked it. I imagined silently wrapping my hand around her mouth, using a chloroform soaked handkerchief to slowly sedate her. I would carry her outside, then switch to a different handkerchief; one doused with hydrogen cyanide. If I measured the dose correctly, she would die slowly in about a minute. Slow enough for me to get my kicks, but quick enough that she would not suffer endlessly. My smile widened at my fantasy.

_Don't even consider it._

My smile fell. It was so uncanny that the Voice of reason in my mind resembled the voice of my foster father, Carlisle. He was the general 'good guy'; the perfect father to me and perfect husband to Esme, my foster mother. He did all the right things, from working fourteen hours a day at the local hospital at reduced wages, to fostering a delusional seventeen year old that the state had given up on. I respected Carlisle, in a way. He stood for what was right, and had the most calming aura I had ever felt. He knew just how to calm me after I returned home at five in the morning. I would be a wreck without him, or at least more than the wreck I already was.

_Stop. For Carlisle._

I almost chuckled, but stopped myself before I could give my position away to the girl. The Voice never learned. Carlisle's name had never tamed the monster inside me. It only made him stronger, made him angry. Why was Carlisle so good? He made me feel evil. His compassion and resolve made my willpower look weak in comparison. Yes, I succumbed to temptation every time, but the temptation was so strong. What was the worst temptation Carlisle had faced? Should he take a few acetamenaphin tablets from the hospital's pharmacy to replenish his supplies at home? Would it be all right if he left work an hour early because he was tired? Would a placebo cure a patient's condition better than the real medication?

_Carlisle doesn't know the meaning of temptation._

That wasn't the Voice. That was the monster. He had woken completely and was now taking the reins inside my mind. It was almost as if I had woken him myself, with all my thoughts about him and the Voice nagging about my lack of conscience. I took a step back from the girl.

_Let's lead her on._

There was no other way to get what I wanted from her. I had not prepared for killing tonight, as my foster parents and I were passing through an unfamiliar town on the way to one of Carlisle's medical conventions. If I had known my . . . my thirst would have been this much, I would have brought drugs with me, to make my victim's death less painful.

_But, we are doing things my way._

He was right. I had no choice but to do as he wanted. The girl would die, and she would know what was coming to her. That was the way he liked it. He lived for the fear, the anticipation, the tears, the struggling. And he knew that what he enjoyed, I enjoyed. The bastard.

The girl was probably stoned. She hadn't moved for the duration of my mental debate. It was late, though. Or should I say early, at three forty-five in the morning. She had been fingering the same packet of cigarettes for the last three or four minutes. I knew at any moment she would have to get home to sleep. I couldn't let her disappear. She was mine. The monster chuckled.

_Yes. Acknowledge that we are one. I am you, and you me._

I couldn't deny it.

I let him take over, even though I really was still myself. I could stop at any time, but chose not to. I was the monster; I was the sadist.

I took a loud and deliberate step towards the girl again. Somehow I could tell she was daydreaming about sex. And in order to get what I wanted, I would have to offer her what she needed. I let my hips meet her ass cheeks, and ground into her once. My hands hooked round her arms, and groped her breasts. Her breath hitched, her head turned and her muddy brown eyes met mine.

"What's your name, baby?" I growled.

"L-Lauren," she whimpered, trembling at my proximity. I licked my lips. Would she tremble this much as she took her penultimate breath? I allowed my breath to flood her face. I knew I smelled good. I was not a slob. I looked into her eyes intensely. She exhaled into my face. Vodka. I released her, turning her round so she could see my face properly.

She gasped. I lifted my index finger to her thin lips. I parted them slightly, and obediently she took my finger into her mouth, sucking on my digit sloppily. I faked a moan. "I'd like to see what else you can do with that pretty little mouth of yours," I grunted huskily. Without further instruction, I turned and briskly walked out of the shop. I knew by her expressions that she would follow.

After walking a few yards on the street outside, I could hear hurried and disorganized footsteps following after me. I turned right, to a side road which hopefully led to a park, or some other area that would be deserted at this time of night. As I walked, one blinking lamppost showed where I was headed.

How ironic. A dead end.

I let out a brief laugh. It came out harsh. I didn't care, though. The clicking of Lauren's heels became louder and louder, until the harlot was staring up at me. I rejoiced inwardly. I was soon to be satisfied. The anticipation was overwhelming. I was almost shuddering.

"Down," I growled. She complied, eager to please me. And she would please me. I saw her grimace as, in her rush, she grazed her knees on the sharp gravel. Her face was so beautiful to me, wincing in pain. Her hands fidgeted to undo my belt, to unzip my jeans. She was disoriented, panicking when she couldn't undo the button. I watched her in frustration. I couldn't wait any longer. I had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity. It had in fact been only yesterday since I had last killed. But I was getting greedy.

Gluttony was a bitch.

"Look at me, baby," I crooned. My voice was thick with lust. I used my hand to stroke her chin. I caressed her jaw, and then moved to her collarbone.

"Do you want to please me?" I asked. She nodded, with almost enough vigor to make her head fly off her neck. I had no objections to that situation. I walked behind her putting my legs on the outside of her own. I kneeled, so that her back was to my chest. She misinterpreted the action, pulling her skirt up to reveal her bare ass to me.

"No, no, no, baby," I said softly, pulling her skirt back down. I reached above her shoulder and wrapped my right hand around her neck. I pulled her closer to me with my left hand, and then fished under her shirt to find where her heart was. She moaned, thinking I was fondling her breast. I took a much needed deep breath. I was moaning at her ignorance. But the monster that was me wanted more; he wanted her fear, her protest.

"I want your final breath. Whether you offer it to me or not, I will take it from you," I said, giddied by the prospect of a struggle. I was prepared, all ready for my release. My chest would feel when she stopped breathing. My right hand would control her death, allowing me to draw it out. My left hand would feel when it was done, when my gratification would start its progression into guilt.

"You fucking freak! Let me go!" Her screams echoed around the small cave area and bounced off the dumpster. I groaned. It felt wonderful, orgasmic even, as she struggled.

"Please! I'm begging you, please! Don't kill me! I'll do anything!" She had resorted to begging now, after she realized that my grip was iron wrought. I indulged, listening to her futile sobs until the monster grew restless. It had to happen now. I didn't care that the Voice had almost disappeared. _Don't_, it begged, with about the same amount of jurisdiction as a field mouse.

I laughed, and squeezed my right hand.

My eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she flat lined.

...

I held her body for about a quarter of an hour. It was like holding her limp form added more satisfaction, letting me wallow in her death. I didn't feel guilt, not yet anyway.

Pleasure without remorse. Score.

I closed my eyes, replaying her death in my head.

After a while, bright lights danced under my eyelids. My eyes snapped open; I looked in the direction of the light.

One police car, two officers with flashlights coming my way. I hissed, my eyes darting left and right. I snarled at the approaching officers, warning them.

A camera flashed. They were close enough to document my position, presumably for a file or record. One of my hands hand was still around her neck, the other at her still heart.

"He's wild," one of the officers stated. I knelt rigid, ready to pounce at any moment. Saliva built up in my mouth. I swallowed it back down. I growled this time, changing the tone from warning to threatening.

The other cop walked towards me, trying to pry me from my prey. I took my cue and pounced, springing backwards and pinning him down, sitting on his thin torso and clasping my hands around his neck. I squeezed tightly with all my might. His groans of pain caused vibrations to course up my arms and chest.

This action gave me pleasure as killing usually did. But, I loosened my grip, because my mind was whirling. It was as if even through this madness, rooted deep within me were morals. This was a police officer. The monster urged me to continue killing him, but I resisted.

_Respect higher authorities._

There it was, the Voice, back with a vengeance. I had brought him back, in my moment of self-doubt. The monster, startled at the return of the Voice, argued.

_He is mine. We are one._

_No. _

_Yes._

_No._

_Why does he enjoy taking lives? If he is so good, why does he delight in having an innocent die at his hands?_

_He doesn't enjoy it. You do. You are controlling his senses, so that your pleasure is his._

I listened to the Voice. He seemed to be making more and more sense to me. I was also beginning to feel guilt again, for ending Lauren's life. And the many before her. The monster grew agitated at the Voice.

_Lies! His body takes pleasure from death. I am simply the one who knows his deepest fantasies, and how to bring them to pass._

_You are not Edward. Edward is Edward. You will be destroyed when he realises that you are not what he wants to be. Then you will be sent to hell where you belo- _

**_Enough!_**

The monster's snarl was loud in my mind, like standing next to amplifiers in a rock concert. I clutched my head, squeezing to make the pain stop. It didn't. The monster disliked losing arguments; he disliked how the Voice was actually winning me over.

I let out a confused cry. One at a time, when either the monster or the Voice spoke, it was painful. Having them argue in my mind was agonizing. A stab of pain sliced through the skin of my nape. I rolled off of the copper, who was hyperventilating. The monster stared longingly at his vulnerable state, wishing to pounce, but I couldn't do anything. I couldn't move. I lay on my side, facing the officer, my eyelids getting heavier and heavier as the seconds passed. I closed my eyes, using all my energy to utilizing my hearing. I could sense movement to my left but it was getting quieter and quieter.

I couldn't move, I couldn't see, I couldn't hear.

I couldn't feel.

...

". . . just to watch her die . . ."

". . . endanger people around him."

"I don't think he is . . ."

". . . and throw away the . . ."

". . . is a monster . . ."

I caught snippets of conversation around me. I still could not move much, but didn't want to experiment in case the conversation would move elsewhere. I heard the opening of a door, and hurried footsteps. I heard people shuffling, possibly restraining the new entrant. My sense of hearing was growing more acute by the second, restoring itself to normal.

"I don't believe this."

The new voice sounded familiar. It was agonized, distraught.

Carlisle.

"He couldn't have done this. This is absurd." A door opened and closed again. A man had left the room.

"I'm sorry, sir, but he is a murderer. In fact, he may be the cause of many deaths around Alaska. Does he reside in Alaska?"

"Yes, with my wife and I. But, I'm sorry, he wouldn't do this. He's a good kid."

"Apparently not, sir. We have reason to believe that your son is to blame for at least fourteen deaths in the past six months. And probably more before then, but we have no concrete evidence for those cases."

I was not looking, but I could almost sense Carlisle's expression. He didn't believe the police officer.

"Edward is a good kid," he repeated stiffly.

"We were alerted to the sound of screams down Mortar Avenue, and we found him holding a corpse like this." The shuffling of paper led me to believe that Carlisle was being shown the photograph. What would this do to Carlisle? It would fuck him up. I knew I was in my own sick, twisted world, but I had no right to destroy his perfect life.

A small grunt of remorse escaped from my lips.

Carlisle rushed forward towards the thin bed where I was laying. I stiffened.

"Sir, I think you should step back. He's not bound," the officer warned. It was preposterous to even suggest I would–purposefully-hurt Carlisle.

Carlisle aired my thoughts. "It's fine. He's never hurt me before." His voice wavered slightly, though.

"I'll be outside, then." The officer left the room.

I opened my eyes, moving them slowly to meet Carlisle's face. He looked aged, wrinkles showing on his forehead and cheeks as he frowned. He actually looked old enough to be my real father for once.

"Carlisle," I greeted him. "Good morning" was hardly an appropriate thing to say.

"Edward," he replied, nodding his head once in my direction. We held eye contact for many moments, and I felt myself shrinking under his gaze. I dropped my eyes to look at the shiny linoleum on the ground. He used this as his chance.

"How could you, Edward? Why would you?" he asked. I dared not meet his gaze again.

I debated in my mind, unsure of what to say. Should I tell him that I took perverse pleasure in death? Or should I lie, think up an excuse? The monster wanted me to tell him the truth, to see the pain it caused him, for the slim chance of witnessing a heart attack. I badly wanted to ignore the monster, but it was difficult. Because the Voice wanted me to tell him the truth too; it was the right thing to do.

Fuck.

I took a deep breath in. Carlisle noticed and shifted his weight to one foot.

"I . . . enjoy . . . the feeling," I began quietly. Saying it out loud was strange, but it was all painfully true. "My body and mind, they, they crave the feeling. Her death satisfied me. Gave me pleasure."

I heard Carlisle suck in a deep, slow breath. "And . . . and the others?" he asked warily.

"The same," I answered.

"Why didn't you tell me, Edward? I know people who could have helped you with these . . . desires. You didn't trust me? What did I do?"

"You did nothing, Carlisle. Nothing wrong. But do you know how difficult it is to live with you? You're courteous, generous, kind hearted. Altruism is practically your middle name. Every time I tried to tell you, I couldn't. It would ruin you if I told you what I am."

"And finding out this way doesn't ruin me?" he said. I let my eyes meet his reluctantly, and they were still wide with disappointment.

"I tried. I tried to tell you," I said, pleading for him to believe that I didn't want to hurt him. His eyes searched mine.

"When I found you sneaking in through the window three months ago? Did you . . . kill?" His expression slowly transitioned from questioning, to acknowledging, to grief.

I nodded.

"I should have known. You were hysterical. You were inconsolable. I'm sorry, Edward. I could have nipped this in the bud. I've let you down. Edward, forgive me-"

"It's not your fault, Carlisle. It's me. I am who I am. A monster."

"It is completely my fault. I'm a failure of a father."

"Be quiet, Carlisle," I said through gritted teeth. He made me feel more of a monster by taking the blame. My body tensed, anger making my muscles rigid. Carlisle continued, oblivious.

"How can I when I've let you down? What kind of man do you think I am?"

I grabbed the coarse sheet I was laying on and squeezed. The sound of fabric tearing could be heard before I realized what I was doing.

"Carlisle . . ." I warned, again through gritted teeth.

"Edward, I'm sorry. You can't just blame yourself for all this. Understand that I am as much to blame for this as you are-"

I sat up, bolt upright, a small snarl escaping my lips as I released the sheets and instead grasped his forearm. "It's entirely my fault, Carlisle. Stop being an idiot. I don't want to be angry with you," I hissed. His eyes tightened in pain. I let go; I didn't know I was holding him that firmly.

Carlisle looked me up and down cautiously. Rubbing his sore arm, he backed away slowly.

I'd hurt him. What kind of maniac was I?

"Carlisle," I whispered, my voice hoarse from hissing. "Don't go. I'm sorry."

He continued his retreat, turning his back on me and walking away. His footsteps were louder than thunder. He stopped just before the door.

"Goodbye, Edward."

* * *

**[A/N] **C'mon. Was it really that bad? Let me know. Do you hate me for abandoning Edward? I sure do!

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Edwards squeaky chew toy  
2010-09-01 . chapter 1

Good start to a disturbing story.


	2. Mine

**[A/N] **Thanks for the reviews/faves/alerts/C2s! I really love them! My favourite review is now on the bottom of Chapter One :)

(Twilighted also has this story. Due to validation and stuff, FanFic'll get chapters first, but Twilighted gets them neater and beta'd.)

Gah. I really hated writing all but 681 words of this chapter. Introductions are so boring, and you have to get them right or they fail. Did I fail?

* * *

"Mine."

_**BPOV  
**_

**_~5 years later~_**

"Babe?" Jacob asked from inside the kitchen. I was in the bedroom, sitting on the bed, lacing my new white trainers.

"I'm in the bedroom," I called. I heard his thundering footsteps and shook my head to myself. He was always very heavy footed. I knew that by the countless times my dad had caught us sneaking around at home back in Phoenix. Jacob walked in and sat next to me on the bed. He kissed me on the neck, his natural musky scent swirling around me. His big muscular arms wrapped round my waist possessively.

I giggled. "Jake, I have to go to work," I said. He still kissed me, his mouth moving to my chin, my jaw, until it rested just below my ear.

"You don't have to go in, you know," he said slowly, tightening his grip on my waist. I closed my eyes, smiling.

"Jake, you know that this job is the reason we moved to Forks. I don't want to be late on my first day," I said. I was always the sensible person in our relationship. It didn't matter, I liked it that way. I pulled away, and finished tying the laces of my sneakers.

He moped at me, like a spoiled puppy dog, but understood that it was important for me to get in on time. It would be my first day today at the Home, working as a general assistant. It was pure luck that I had found this position online. Yes, it was low wages, but I would gain priceless experience to put on my resume (next to my psychology degree), which could take me places. Big places.

With my excellent credit rating (no student loans-thanks to my dad), I was able to get a good mortgage on a small cottage in my name. Jake knew some people down at the Quileute Reservation, and easily arranged to set up a casual tinker shop with his long-time buddy, Seth. Everything fell quite neatly into place.

After cooking and eating breakfast with Jake and gathering my paperwork into my shoulder bag, I stepped into my old truck and set out for my new workplace. It didn't take long to reach the address, and I got out of the rusty orange vehicle and looked at the building.

The Home was just as the pictures in the ad had shown: old, dreary and restricted. There were half rusty bars on all of the windows, and a forlorn-looking sign above the large double doors.

_Welcome to Forks Home._

When the word "home" is spelled with a capital letter, you know it doesn't mean "house." It generally meant a sort of prison; orphanages, foster homes and old people's care houses all used the word Home.

This was a different kind of Home.

It was one for the mentally destitute, for people who needed _help._ From the wording on the ad, I deduced that some of the inhabitants were _beyond_ help. I had shrugged it off then, but now I was starting to feel a little apprehensive. If this was what the exterior looked like, what would the people who lived and worked here be like? Would they reflect the dreariness and forsaken appearance of the building?

I almost got back into my truck and drove away, before I stopped myself.

_C'mon, Bella. You've come all the way from Arizona for this. Stop being a pussy._

I took strong, definite strides on the gravel towards the building. It seemed to take forever for me to reach the large double doors, but when I did, I let out a huge breath I didn't even know I was holding. This was it. My first proper job.

I opened the door, slowly. The great panes of wood creaked, alerting practically the whole world of my presence. I stepped inside, my eyes unused to the darkness inside. Hastily stepping inside and shutting the creaky door behind me, I blinked a few times.

Someone grabbed my arm. I shrieked in panic.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you squeak," a female voice sounded, and I looked down at the source of the apology. All I saw upon first glance was a mass of curly dark hair, bouncing excitedly as she talked.

"I'm Jessica. You must be Isabella."

"Just Bella," I corrected reflexively.

"Whatever. Welcome to the Dumping Bucket," she smiled. As I saw her properly, I noticed she was pretty; brown eyes, petite frame, but there was something in her eyes. Something I didn't like.

"Dumping Bucket?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows sceptically.

"Yeah," she said. "When prisons think that someone is a danger to other prisoners and officers, they ship 'em here or to other Homes like this one."

"So everyone here is a prisoner?" My voice broke, revealing my fear.

"'Course not, silly," she said patronizingly. "All the staff are checked."

"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling less and less sure of what I was doing by the minute. Jessica led me to her little desk area. She swept some littered documents off her table and sat on it. The wood bent under her slight weight, groaning in protest.

"I'm joking. Only six guests here are convicts. The rest are here for counselling, and 24 hour care. So . . . You're here to get some experience to put on your resume, right? I can tell you, you will meet some real psychos for sure." She beckoned with her finger for me to come close, as if she was going to tell me a crucial secret. "Especially Cullen. You do not want to run into that loony any time soon."

"Who?"

"Edward Cullen. He is one fucked up hottie. See this?" She pulled down the collar of her turtleneck, revealing scars so faint that I had to squint to see them properly. "First day he got here. He saw me and went for my throat." As if I needed a visual, she theatrically mimed being strangled. "But, _God, _does he have the most piercing green eyes you will ever see!"

"Wait, why would he do that?" I asked, horrified. "What did you do to him?"

"I guess I just stood too close." She shrugged, twirling her curls in her hand. I looked around, desperate to see someone else other than Jessica. I didn't.

"Where's everyone at?" I asked, scanning the area again. The place seemed to be empty; I didn't like it. I felt deserted, anxious.

"Well," Jessica huffed, "you're subtle. If you really wanted me to get lost, I'd rather you said it up front." My eyes widened in horror.

"Oh my gosh, I didn't mean that! I just meant that this place seemed a little empty—"

"_Sure_. The overnighters have gone to sleep, and the rest are round the main building." She turned away, sliding off the table to rearrange the papers she had disturbed a just minute ago. I gabbled at her uselessly.

"Jessica, I—"

"Through that door over there and keep going 'til you hit someone."

I gave up, following her limp arm to the door she was pointing at. Through the door was a corridor, and I walked along, eyes on the shiny flooring. My feet made annoying, loud squeaky noises. The white linoleum was yellowish compared to my trainers. I kept shuffling, head down, until I knocked into a wall, with a resounding "Oof."

My butt hit the ground, and I hissed out in pain. My eyes watered from the pain and I blinked, trying to stop them from spilling.

"Need a hand?" a male voice sounded right by my ear. As a testament to my cowardice, I jumped. "Whoa. A little on edge, are we?"

I looked up to see a kind looking boy-next-door type extending a hand to me. I took it, and he helped me up. "No . . . Not on edge." I scowled, feeling slightly incompetent. "Nervous."

The guy's brown eyebrows lifted, amused. "I'm Mike. So you're Isabella? The new girl?"

I grimaced at the thought of being called the "new girl." "Bella."

"That's cool. Bella. Nice name." His smile was a little too welcoming; a little too enthusiastic.

"Thanks," I replied tightly.

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds as his eyes wandered up and down my outfit. Jeans and a blouse-and sneakers, as instructed.

"Well, then, I suppose you want to meet everyone else, eh?" Mike said brightly. I inwardly groaned. None of these people seemed to be particularly pleasant so far. I gulped it down and forced a smile onto my face. "Sure, let's go."

Ten minutes and a cup of coffee later, I was fully introduced to the whole crew. All four of them. Well, five now, including me. There was Jessica, the secretary; Mike the all-rounder dude-with-no-real-purpose; Tyler on security; and the boss, Angela Weber, who I had spoken to on the phone before. The only reason Mike had even been hired, I discovered, was because he was Angela's nephew, which explained why he was the youngest and so utterly useless.

Angela noticed my discomfort and tried to disperse everyone. "So, Bella, I'm sure you want to meet some of the, erm—"

"Nutcases," Mike interjected, looking straight at me and winking. I shuddered. Angela scowled at her nephew and then ordered him to go and make some more coffee. When he was out of sight, she sighed.

"We've all been eighteen once. If he gets too . . . _there_, let me know." I looked up at her gentle eyes, creased with age and experience, and somehow she comforted me. I saw things that had been in my mother; a caring nature, a glint of happiness . . . It was all too familiar.

"Thanks, Angela. I appreciate it." I really did. She was perhaps the only person here I would actually enjoy being around. And plus, she had _loads _of mental care experience. I could learn heaps from her.

"No problem. Now if you don't mind, I have some guests to take care of. Tyler, do you mind showing Bella around?"

Tyler, the dark-skinned, subtly built dude, got up from the chair he was sitting on and walked towards me. He towered over me easily; he must've been at least six feet tall. I looked up at him, uncomfortable, and he smirked. "Okay, Belly, let's go."

I winced. I hadn't been called "Belly" for ten years. "Bella."

His faint Jamaican accent got under my skin somehow. "Aww, c'mon girl. Relax. Lemme show you around like a gentleman." He moved to my side and put his arm around my shoulder laxly. I shrugged him off and stepped to the side.

"I don't think my_ boyfriend_ would appreciate you doing that," I spat out, giving him a cold glare. "Just show me around and nothing else, please."

"No problem, gal. We'll just take a stroll. That cool?" He moved closer to me again, but didn't attempt to touch me.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, thanks."

The building was pretty straight forward. In the main area were all the staff and communal amenities; the showers, the staff room, the dining area, and a lounge for the less unstable guests. Then, the staff bedrooms. I was given one "just in case," and because there were so many to spare. I didn't look inside because Tyler would follow me in. Not a good idea. Tyler turned to me, grinning.

"This is the part where you gotta stay by me, sweetpea. We gonna go 'round the nutties."

"For the last time, my name is _Bella_." I was a little more than pissed off now, and also nervous. I was imagining how Jacob would take this attention. He was a great guy, but sometimes he had a short temper.

Tyler walked me around in silence. The corridors and doors were complicated here, and there seemed to be no system to work out who was staying where. I guess I would learn in time. Tyler stopped and turned to me after we had walked for a while.

"All right, _Bella_, darlin'. We're here, where no one can hear us. You wanna quit bein' hard to get now?"

My eyes widened, and I stepped back against the wall, infuriated. "Erm, Tyler! I have a boyfriend! And he won't be too happy when he finds out that you won't _back off!" _ I gave him a tough shove, which barely budged his bulky frame.

"Now, now, Bella . . ." he said, his eyes narrowing into slits as his voice took a softer, more sinister tone. I shuddered, suddenly scared. "No need to be like that." His arms, only slightly smaller than my thighs, lifted around my face, so that his hands were on the wall either side of me. I was trapped.

"Leave me alone, Tyler." I squeaked, increasingly aware of his strength and physical presence. He was _huge_. No match for Jake, but where was my boyfriend now?

"You don't have to be scared, Bella," he whispered. "All I want is a kiss." He leaned into me, pressing his body close to mine and breathing onto my face.

I was starting to panic, my face flushing and my eyes still wide as saucers. _Self defence, self defence, self defence . . ._ I couldn't think of anything. All I could think of was his size, and his breath, and the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I needed to do something, and fast . . .

_Got it._

Knee to the groin. The only move I knew, taught to me by my father when I was eight. I could do it. My father had said: _"It'll bring even the toughest of men to their knees, Bells. That, and pepper spray."_

I drew my knee as far back as it would go and drove forward, feeling it hit the firmness of his skin. There was a split second where I didn't think it had worked, until he recoiled, and, clutching his crotch, howled out. I stared at him, unsure of what to do now that he was momentarily incapacitated.

_Get the hell out of there, Swan._

I turned and ran, as fast as I could without falling over. Left, right, straight down the squeaky white corridors. I could've sworn I was going round in circles; all the doors looked familiar, yet all foreign as I ran. The bright lights were getting to me. I was losing my breath. My shoes kept on with their damn squeaking. Unshed tears shrouded my vision. My muscles started to ache. My chest felt tight, like fear was literally squeezing the life out of me.

I had to stop.

My hands found the nearest walls, as my body skidded to a halt. My muscles screamed, unused to the exercise they had just endured, but were now relaxing. The tightness in my chest eased, until I found I could breathe properly again. My heart's restless beating calmed, until it was thudding regularly and not threatening to jump out of my chest.

_Count, Bella. One, two, three, four . . ._

The counting helped my mind stay on top of the situation. My sensibleness was back. I was safe here, possibly quite far away from Tyler. I would wait for a moment, and then walk around "until I hit someone," as Jessica had so nicely put it. I would find Angela, file some sort of incident report thing about Tyler, get him fired, and things would be all right again. I wouldn't have to tell Jake, he wouldn't get mad, and Dad wouldn't need to get worried.

I smiled, and opened my eyes.

Peace, serenity.

There was nobody in sight, not a sound to be heard. I sighed loudly in relief, straightening myself up from the hunched position I was in and giving myself mental kudos for how I had handled the situation. After a quick game of _eeny meeny miny moe, _I chose to turn left and start walking.

After a few seconds, I had a strange feeling. Like something freaky was about to happen. My heart involuntarily re-quickened and my pace quickened by a fraction. _Calm down_. This place is making me was completely illogical to think that here, in this secure, established building, that something terrible would happen to me. Aside from the fact that Tyler was a little (or rather a lot) too keen on me, this place wasn't too bad. Nothing unsafe here.

I glanced down, and then stopped when I realised my left trainer was untied.

I felt a body bump into me.

_Tyler__!_

I let out a high-pitched scream until a smooth but strong hand cut the sound short. Another hand curled around my waist, pulling me back into my captor, not allowing me to escape. I budged and budged, but it was fruitless; he had me. I screamed more, trying to get the sound to escape the cage of his impermeable fingers.

"Shhh."

That. Wasn't. Tyler.

Looking down, I could see that the hand covering my mouth was not warm and dark, like Tyler's, but pale and cool. Not even tanned enough to be Mike's, neither was it soft enough to be a female's.

I screamed again, trying to bite him, trying to break free from his hold on me. Fear hadn't sunken in yet; this was pure and irrational adrenaline. I managed to bite a finger, but instead of a grunt of pain, I could've sworn I heard a moan.

"Isabella," the velvety voice delicately scolded, "I told you to be quiet."

_He knows my name?_

The adrenaline was fading fast. I was already horrified at what was going on. I stood still in his grasp, letting my hollering die down, squeezing my eyes shut to stop more stupid tears from escaping and giving me away.

"If I let your mouth go, Isabella," he asked quietly, in that silky voice, "will you scream?"

I shook my head tightly. He rubbed my waist affectionately. "Good girl."

His hand loosened on my mouth, testing the waters. True to my word, I didn't scream. The arm around my waist clamped me further into his hard body. Then his hand wandered, carefully tucking my long, dark hair behind my ears, stroking my cheek, progressing down to my jaw. His movements were slow and precise, as if they were meticulously measured.

I shivered.

He exhaled.

His hand moved down my neck, and in a swift gesture his hand was clasped around my throat. I gasped, reflexively about to let out my highest scream, but then stopped myself. Instead, I breathed deeply, unsure of whether this breath would be my last.

_I love you, Jake. Love you, Dad. See you soon, Mom._

I held my breath until I could hold it no more. I exhaled, but before I could take another breath, his hand around my windpipe tightened.

_So this is it. I am going to die._

I tried in vain to breathe, but every breath I tried to take resulted in me losing more and more oxygen. As I panted and gasped, my eyes shot open, scanning the area for any signs of help. There were none.

I gave up, closing my eyes. Death was near.

I heard a loud snarl, and then I was released. _Free!_ Due to the lack of air in my lungs, I was weak and fell to the floor immediately. Resisting the urge to pass out I turned around, looking up to ascertain who my attacker was.

All I could tell at first glance was how beautiful he was. He was tall, slender, and muscular, but not bulky. Pale, with the most perfectly angular face I had ever seen. He had magnificently long eyelashes framing the most captivating emerald eyes . . .

_"He is one fucked up hottie."_

_"First day he got here. He saw me and went for my throat."_

_"_God_, does he have the most piercing green eyes you will ever see!"_

I knew who he was. Edward Cullen. The "loony" who had tried to strangle Jessica on his first day. I had no idea of how much danger I was in— would he try to kill me again? Would he finish the job now that I was on the ground and vulnerable? Would I face death again?

I was taking too many deep breaths; I was getting dizzy. The edges of my vision were getting fuzzy. I was going to pass out.

Edward leaned down, smirking to himself as he held my weak gaze. Before my world went black, I heard him say the single word, "Mine."

* * *

**[A/N] **Review pleaaase :)

And expect updates twice montly/ three times every two months. I have studying to do. Merr.

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Maliha R Pattinson  
2010-09-11 . chapter 2

Omgggggg. This was epic! You need to update asap because I need the next chapter more than coffee, or chocolate, or Rob Pattinson. (Okay, maybe not the last one, but you get my drift.)

Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeee update.

-Your (now) number one fangirl 3

**(Holy shit-I have a fangirl? :O )**


	3. You Can't Have Her

**[A/N] **Sorry for the wait people. Studying is the biggest bitch in the world.

You'll understand the timing of this chapter halfway through reading :)

Enjoysss, and please review!

* * *

"You Can't Have Her."

_**EPOV**_

I awoke with a start, my body plunging head-first into awareness without any warning. I could never fathom why, even after years of this captivity, I could never have a smooth or gentle awakening. My stomach ever churned with my never-satiable desire. I had it firmly under control now; I could go for weeks at a time without thinking about how good it would feel to have a victim in my arms struggling, their heart racing and then faltering as they faded away…

Stop it, Cullen.

Breathe.

I had not killed for three, nearly four years. And I could feel it in my body.

Glancing in the direction of the window, I could tell it was early. Not late enough in the morning for a certain Jessica Stanley's yabbering to irritate me. I hated that woman with a burning passion. It was her fault that I was in the most secluded section of this 'Home'. She just _had to _have enticed me with that low cut blouse, exposing her thin neck to me, luring me into a kill…

Damn her. I hadn't even succeeded.

I lay for a while, knowing I would not be able to get back to sleep even if I tried. So I didn't, instead staring at the ceiling, wondering how on Earth I had ended up _here, _in this Home. I was the definition of a messed up fucker, one worthy of more than a death sentence. This was hardly as bad as maximum security prison. Although, having to be under someone's watchful eye "twenty-four seven" while I pretended to be normal was pretty damaging to my ego. I was not _mentally unstable. _I was a murderer who just happened to enjoy killing people more than he should.

I was pretty sure I had been condemned to hell; this place was merely purgatory— giving the demons time to prepare for my arrival. I'd bet they had something excessively torturous reserved for me. Twenty-four hour hellhound attacks or some shit.

I could not see much; it was so dark. And so I just listened. I remembered when I was younger, maybe thirteen. I'd listen to the sounds of the morning: cars hooting, clubbers returning drunken and loud after a huge night out, house parties winding down and windows smashing. I strained my ears to see if, maybe this morning, I would hear something of interest.

Owls.

Forks had _nothing _of interest.

_Another week of this, _I said to myself, _and I will actually go mad._

I'd been saying that to myself every day since I got here. The drab, clinical colors; the harsh light in every room and hallway; the monotony of each day… it was enough to make _anybody_ go round the bend. But I never lost it. I had never let my common sense slip. It was like retaining my sanity was another addition to my punishment, allowing no means of escape. It was painful, yet I deserved it all.

My eyes darted reflexively to the door as I heard movement outside. I could tell immediately who it was; only a petite woman would tread with those quick, light footsteps. Beams of light flitted under my door, but not through the tinted glass on the top half of the door. An experienced woman; one who didn't need a torch to know her way around. I groaned.

Alice.

"Aha! I heard that!" Her high pitched voice no doubt woke up the whole fucking Home. She was so very annoying, in that damnable "you-can't-hate-me" way. Her trainers squeaked as she drew closer still; they were most probably another new pair. I closed my eyes and pulled my sheets above my head, closing my eyes and feigning sleep.

I could hear her fumbling at the door. The sound of the lock turning sounded thunderous next to the tedious nocturnal birdsong. I regulated my breathing like I did when the other night-workers came to check on me.

The door opened, and I remained a statue. I could hear her breathing, getting louder as she approached. I tried to breathe regularly, deeply in and out. She huffed, and flicked the torchlight around the room. I knew she was trying to trick me into opening my eyes, and so I struggled to resist the temptation.

"Edward. I know you're pretending. Don'tcha want to talk to your bestest friend?"

I nearly snorted. I didn't have a friend, let alone a _bestest _one. I didn't move, still retaining my immobile, peaceful position. She turned away, walking towards the door, and for a moment I thought I had won this time. But she turned the light switch of my room on, flooding my small room in that callous florescent light. My eyes flew to cover my eyes, an annoyed growl rumbling in my chest.

Alice laughed. Fucking pixie. "See, I knew it! You can never fool me, Eddy."

My stomach crawled at the babyish nickname. "What do you want, Alice?" I said gruffly, the growl still evident in my voice.

"Oh Ed, why do you think I want something from you? I'm just here for a chat, like always." I opened my eyes slowly, forcing them to widen and accommodate the light, and then narrowing them at Alice. She had done something different to her hair now. She had straightened her usual spiky hair; giving it the illusion of length. Her cheeks were slightly hollowed, her forehead wrinkled and her skirt creased ever-so-slightly.

She was stressed out.

"What's bothering you, Alice?" I said, sighing and sitting up in my bed. The sooner we had another routine "heart-to-heart", the sooner she would leave.

"Who said anything was bothering me?" She sulked.

I raised my eyebrows. "Your body language did."

"You must be a psychic freak or something. I am actually extremely stressed out!" She walked closer to me again, and sat on the edge of my bed. She was so close; I had to look away before my imagination ran wild. It wasn't wise to attack Alice Whitlock. I knew that from experience.

"What's bothering you?" I repeated. My voice strained with the effort it took to keep my hands still.

"A new girl's coming in later, and they have me running around doing everything! I'm cleaning, printing out paperwork— and that's Jessica's job, she should've done that yesterday…"

A new girl? Alice was a blessing as well as a curse, I supposed. I rarely got news. I had no idea that a new woman would be working here…

_Oh, the possibilities…_

I ignored the monster momentarily, tuning myself back into Alice's ongoing rant. She was still going, "…and I was telling them that this huge rush would happen, but they didn't listen—"

"Who's the psychic freak now?" I muttered. She seemed to never be wrong at predicting things or warning people of future events.

"Whatever, Eddy-weddy." She cooed at me, relishing my annoyed expression.

"Bye, Alice. I want to sleep." I slid back down, forcing her to get up off of my bed. I needed to think, to mull over the new information Alice had given me. It wasn't often I got anything to think about, and I was now morbidly curious.

"As if. You hardly ever sleep."

"Then I think I have some catching up to do." I closed my eyes, shutting her out.

"You're trying to get rid of me?" I could imagine her sticking her bottom lip out, pouting like a little girl. I chuckled darkly.

"No shit."

"Well, then. I think I should be going."

I waited until the lights were turned off, the door opened and closed again, and the footsteps trailed off into silence. I was alone again.

_Hmmm…_

Well, not completely alone. The monster was with me, roused by the idea of a new girl. To be frankly honest, I was also excited. This new girl would be unaware of me, unaware of how much I yearned to kill…

_Good boy._

I reeled slightly, almost horrified at how we were on the same vicious wavelength. But my body swelled with my _need, _and I was desperate to get my hands on another victim. It was more painful, even, when I knew I could get release within a month or so; the dull throbbing had increased to a sharper ache, making me whine.

_Our time will come._

I nodded, baring my teeth to minimize the pain, and began thinking. How would I take this new girl? It sounded like she was young. (Why else would they call her the new "girl"?) Was she my age? Younger? Older? Was she the patronizing make-friends-with-convicts-to-get-through-to-them type, like Alice? Or was she the remote, stay-away-or-they-might-eat-my-face type, like Michael? Was she tall, small, thin, fat…?

_Time for a walk, methinks._

Obediently, I peeled the sheets away from my body, shivering from the cold air that nipped at my skin. I swiveled my body so that I my bare feet were on the ground, and allowed them to get used to the temperature of the linoleum. Using my hands, I lifted the mattress up slightly, uncovering the little nook in the bed frame where kept my door key.

They could never contain me.

After flexing my toes, I stood. My legs were stiff from lying down, and so I stretched them out a bit. I pulled on my black vest; together with my black flannel pants I would blend in nicely.

Before I slipped the key into the lock, I listened. The coast needed to be clear, or I would be caught. When I was certain it was safe I unlocked the door, stepped outside and relocked it. I looked around the corridor. Where to?

_The staff area. They would have information._

I nodded again, almost waiting (and wanting) to hear the Voice try to dissuade me from taking action. But the Voice was dead. Ever since Carlisle had turned his back on me, I had stopped hearing his voice in my mind. The Voice had tried using different accents and timbres, but by then I had lost all respect for it. It had given up. I was my own Voice now.

I faded into the background as I made my way to the staff wing. I knew roughly where the guards ought to be stationed. Emmett would be around the corner from my room, and Jasper with the less unstable ones round the front.

I took an alternative route so I wouldn't run into Emmett. He was big and bulky, like a pro wrestler. I could handle him, naturally, but I didn't want the extra hassle. If I had to move to a different room I would need to obtain a new key, which had taken me six months in the first place.

I continued stealthily; I was almost there now. Jasper would either be at his post or with Alice in their room. Either way, they weren't in my path, which was good. I sneaked round to the row of usually vacant rooms. There was one with a makeshift sign on the door. I squinted to read it in the darkness.

Isabella Swan.

I smiled. Isabella. Meaning beautiful. Swan— delicate, graceful, stunning?

So much to think about.

"Aww, Jazz, c'mon. He's not _that _bad."

Shit. Alice was coming this way, with her husband, Jasper. I ducked into Isabella's room, leaving the door slightly ajar. The room didn't smell of anyone; it was still early morning and so Isabella would not have arrived yet.

"I still don't want you talking to him. He's a murderer." Jasper's voice rang loudly; they were getting closer.

"He hasn't tried to hurt me—"

"He did before. You almost got hurt. I can't let anything happen to you."

I could sense Alice's pout. "He was fine today. We had a nice conversation. He asked me how I was."

"Alice…" Jasper groaned. I heard their door open, and close again. Silence followed.

I was scowling. I loathed how Alice defended me. I was who I was, not a silly project for Alice to take up on. I left Isabella's room and walked back to mine, remembering to lock myself back in.

Once the key was back in place and I was in bed, I allowed myself to look forward to meeting this Isabella Swan. I wanted to have her now, I wanted to hold her in my arms and take her life from her.

I was ashamed of myself for wanting her.

But oh, did I want her.

_Soon, Edward, soon._

And with that I fell asleep.

...

I woke to natural sunlight streaming into my room through the barred windows. My breaths were ragged and my heart pumped blood hurriedly around my system. I struggled to determine what had actually woken me up until I heard delicate panting outside my door.

It enthralled me; conjured up many questions.

Why would anyone be panting here? What was going on? Who was panting? Was there danger? Was I in danger?

I stood and grabbed my key, walking softly to the door. The panting died down. I strained to hear what was going on. There was nothing to hear, nothing to see through the frosted glass.

I turned the key in the lock, and as slowly and quietly as I could, opened the door.

There was nobody in sight.

I closed the door behind me, not bothering to lock it for now. I needed to find whoever it was. I needed to know what the fuck was going on.

My eyes darting everywhere, I turned left, where Emmett would have been if it was nighttime. The corridor was empty. I walked silently back to my room, puzzled, and then tried the other way. There was no other way a person could have gone.

That was when I saw her, walking away from where I was standing.

Who was she? I looked at the back of her attire, seeing a dark blue blouse, jeans and a fresh pair of trainers. Staff uniform.

_That's our girl._

She was average height, shorter than me by the looks of it. She had long, layered brown hair that curled ever so slightly near the ends. Her shoulders were small; she looked frail, breakable.

_An easy target._

He was right. She didn't look like she'd put up much fight.

I walked behind her, noiselessly, falling in step with her. I took in her scent, a floral scent. The way she moved was enticing. Small, quick steps, as if she were afraid already. Afraid of what?

And then she stopped, leaving me to bump amateurishly into her back. There was a small moment where I heard her take in a breath in shock, and I smiled. I could feel the euphoria beginning already.

She released a scream but I had predicted that response. My hand quickly muffled the noise, and I used my other arm to hook around her waist and pull her back into me.

God, she was so warm and soft!

As she thrashed about, I felt myself going into some sort of high. I don't think I had ever felt this good in my entire life… It felt _wonderful_ to be back. Her screams made vibrations buzz through my hand and I fought a moan.

_Focus._

I needed her to be quiet, or I would lose control of myself. "Shhh," I whispered softly.

She wasn't listening to me. Instead she was putting up more of a fight. Her mouth opened in my hand, seeking out a finger to bite. She found one, and bit down, making me groan uncontrollably. I couldn't take it.

"Isabella," I said, speaking through my teeth to cut the moans off, "I told you to be quiet."

The use of her name was effective; she became still for me. She even stopped screaming, which was a very good thing. My mind was clearer. I could do more with her. Stretch this out. The feel of her breathing against my back was pleasant. It was even better knowing that she wouldn't breath again soon.

"If I let your mouth go, Isabella, will you scream?" I asked, my voice a bit more regular. I used her name again to make sure she would comply.

The stiff shake of her head was a sight to behold. I rubbed her waist to let her know that she was pleasing me.

Taking things slow, I released my hand on her mouth. She didn't make a sound. I smiled, thrilled, and pulled her closer to me. I lifted my hand from her face completely, taking a bunch of her silky hair and subtly running my fingers through it. It was as soft and inviting as it looked. I tucked it behind her ear and rubbed her cheek. To my surprise it was quite dry. Tears were there, but they were faint and cold. I hadn't made her cry.

_She's stronger than we'd thought._

I forced myself not to rush running my fingers along her jaw. I wanted to _feel_ her, to _know_ her. She was very still in my arms, until I felt a tremor wash through her body. I let out a gush of air. I was prolonging this too much now.

_Now._

I stroked her neck and swiftly took it in my hand. I cold imagine snapping it; it was so petite. But instead I squeezed, delighting in the little breath she took. I humored her, waiting until she had run out of oxygen. When she breathed out, I squeezed harder, not allowing her to take another breath.

I felt her chest jerking when her life instinct took in. I moaned, feeling the familiar dizziness that accompanied a kill. I could hear the monster rejoicing, ecstatic that gratification was so near. I felt it too, naturally, but I wanted more…

She had stopped moving now, although I could feel her heart beating slowly. There was nothing from her—no sound, no fear, no more fight. I needed to know how she was feeling, but she was so fucking difficult to _read_…

_Don't even think about it._

I want to see her.

_We are so close, Edward. So close!_

I want to see her.

_Stop being foolish, boy! It's been four years. We can't afford to be choosy!_

I could feel him trying to take control of me. It was a foreign feeling; all the monster had done before was suggest things to me, and I had listened.

I fought against him, against the demon inside of me. It was difficult, but I broke through with a snarl, and freed Isabella.

As I regained my breath I watched her turn over. I saw her face for the first time, and she literally amazed me.

She was beautiful.

Perfect and flawless porcelain skin; large, deep brown eyes; a delightfully slim body that curved under her blouse. Her eyes locked onto mine, and although her gaze slipped in and out of focus, I found I couldn't look away.

I could see her, how her chest heaved with her every deep breath. It stirred something inside me, something alien. A fierce possessiveness and a _wanting _I could not describe. I wanted to touch her…

_Finish her._

I didn't want to kill her. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to protect her.

_Do it now!_

I ignored him, stepping forward and leaning down to look deeper into her eyes. My breath quickened as I felt this new emotion course through me. I waited for Isabella to focus on me, before grunting intently, "Mine."

I saw her eyes widen before they rolled back in her head. I watched her eyes close as she lay down. Before she could hit her head on the linoleum, I caught her and lay her down gently. The monster was infuriated; a kill would not be enjoyable if our prey was unconscious.

_You stupid boy! She could have been ours!_

She's mine. Not ours. Mine.

_Just listen to yourself! You are so pathetic. You were less of a pussy when you were eighteen._

I shut the monster out, keeping my eyes on Isabella. She was even beautiful when she was in a deep sleep.

I stood up from Isabella, turning to go back to my room. After casting a final glance back at her, I heard the monster's roar:_ I want her too!_

I chuckled, replying, "You can't have her."

* * *

**[A/N] **Well, there you go. That's why Eddy stopped... Turns out captivity has made him even more loco than he was before! I am absolutely sorry for the huge wait, but grrrr life gets in the way between me and my beautifully fucked up Edward...

Reviews give me motivation? (hint, hint!)

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BronzeHair  
2010-10-25 . chapter 3

Is it wrong to want to order one of those Edwards? I mean, come on, I'll even pay shipping and handling. I don't care... I just want one...NOW.

Love,

-BronzeHair


	4. You're The Best, Jake

**[A/N]** GAWD. I made sure I got this out on the last day of this month. So technically, I have posted twice this month. :P Happy Halloween, people. If anybody knows any good lawyers, let me know. I shot a whole bunch of trick-or-treater kids tonight. (I'm KIDDING... Or am I...?)

Beta please? Not so much for spelling and such, I just need someone to help me finalize the plot for this story :D My email address is on my profile.

* * *

"You're The Best, Jake."

_**BPOV**_

_I couldn't escape._

_Green eyes. Pale skin. Silky bronze hair._

_He was following me. I couldn't hear him, or see him, but I could sense him around me. His calm, commanding presence, his gaze on every inch of my skin._

_I tried to run. One foot in front of another, as fast as I could down the hall away from him. My blood pounded at my ears, in a frenetic beat that didn't at all help calm my thinking. I lost my breath quickly. My chest ached with every feeble step I took._

_I kept running, despite my body's protest. But, the further away from him I ran, the closer he seemed to get, until I ran right into his chest. I looked up at him, into his emerald eyes, and couldn't look away. _

_He mesmerized me._

_The way he held himself, like a hunter, his aura one of strength and dominance. How he was slender yet muscular, how his bronze hair was disheveled but in a neat and effortless way. And how his body radiated a certain coolness that made me shiver on the spot._

_I blinked, not having it in me to look away from him._

"_You're mine," he said. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he leaned down to my level, our faces merely inches away. "Only mine."_

_I stood there dumbly, my throat feeling dry and scratchy as a blush washed over my face. He lifted his hand and it found my right cheek, stroking it tenderly. He exhaled a shaky breath._

"_Isabella," he moaned, taking his other hand to caress my left cheek. "Oh, Isabella. Bella, Bella, Bella…" _

"Bella!"

"Edw— oh," I gasped, opening my eyes to find Angela and Jessica staring down at me. They looked at each other anxiously before moving away from my face. Immediately, the bright light from the ceiling flashed in my eyes and I swore under my breath, scrunching my eyes and rolling over to my side.

"Bella! We've been worried! Tyler said you just ran off!" Angela looked extremely worried for me, while Jessica looked at me keenly, most likely only here with me for the gossip. Obviously Tyler had made an effort to cover his tracks— I "just ran off"?

Yeah fucking right.

"I'm okay," I groaned, putting my elbows behind me in an attempt to get up.

"No, no, no! Let me help you, dear," Angela obviously thought I was incapable of standing up by myself. _How out of it did I look?_ I let her assist me, and then felt a whoosh of dizziness crash through me. I almost fell back down on my sorry ass. Angela had me steady though, so I didn't hurt myself.

"Oh my God!" Jessica shrieked, although she didn't make a move to help me. Bitch.

"I'm fine, honest," I tried to reassure them, ignoring their skeptical glances. "I faint easily."

"But why would you faint? And why did you run away from Tyler?" I looked at Jessica and frowned, not wanting to give her anything more to talk about.

"Erm, Angela?" I ignored Jessica completely, as we started to walk back to the front.

"Yes, Bella?" She answered, looking at me with that caring, thoughtful expression.

"Can I talk to you alone, please?"

…

"He did _what_?" Angela said incredulously. I had told her everything that Tyler had done, and she was staring at me in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. He was going to do something terrible to me, I'm certain!" I sat up straighter, propping the pillows up behind me and looking her square in the eye. "Don't you believe me?"

I saw her look down, as she fiddled with her sleeve. "I'm not saying I don't believe you, Bella. I just don't judge without hearing both sides of the story. Tyler has never done anything like that before; perhaps he thought he was just flirting or something?" She glanced up at me and saw my resolute expression. There was no way in hell that Tyler was just flirting with me.

"Angela, I am telling the truth. I had no choice but to hit him where it hurt and run away."

"Look, dear. I'm going to ask him what his side of the story is, and if it doesn't add up I'll get the security tapes out. But for now, you just scoot back down and rest. I'll send Michael down to drive you home for the day. And I'll put Tyler on the night shift from tomorrow until we can take further action. That okay?"

After I gave her a satisfied nod, she got up and left my room.

I couldn't help but be a little disappointed at how Angela had handled the situation. Yes, she was fair, and it was the right thing for her to have done in this predicament, but that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted _bias_, I wanted _immediate_ _action_.

I lay back in my bed, pulled the covers up and frowned. What a morning was having! Here I was, only two hours into my first day and I've already: been crushed on and assaulted, met a convict, almost been murdered by said convict, fainted, been laughed at, used as gossip and gained a whopping headache.

Perhaps God was having a bad day and decided to make me his scapegoat. As per usual.

My head pounded. I wished my mother was here now. She'd mix up one of her "natural remedies" for me to drink, and although it wouldn't help make me feel better, I'd feel better afterwards knowing that she had tried her best to help me out. I choked a little on the sudden memories I got of her. I missed her to pieces, even though I never saw her much when she was around.

I wiped my eyes, and then closed then, thinking this was as good a time as any to mull over Edward Cullen.

I couldn't truthfully say that I hadn't been thinking about him all this while. I had been putting him far away in the back of my mind, and he had crept his way back to the front again.

Where to start?

His face, maybe? He was so beautiful, like a god, his face hard-looking and chiseled, very unlike Jake's baby face. He was pale, paler than me, which made his gorgeously piercing eyes jump out and take my breath away.

Or his body? Slender, masculine, strong. Not like Jake's; Jake was built in an obvious way. Edward's strength was effortless, natural. His body was long, lean, and it suited him. Edward was all man, but when I looked at Jake I always saw the little snotty-nosed boy I grew up with. With Edward, I saw mystery, a past I knew nothing about.

Or even his _voice, _how it echoed in my mind after each word, how it caressed my ears like a velvety cloak. How a single grunt or moan could make me shiver. How it had the power to silence me, to _control_ me. How I'd actually love to hear it again, despite my common sense telling me to stay away…

Someone knocked on the door.

_God, that must be Mike._

"Come in." I sat up, forcing a small smile onto my lips. It was Mike, with my bag in his hand. I eyed it suspiciously.

"Yeah, you left this in the staff lounge," he explained, waving it carefully. "Jessica went through it and sorted the paperwork out already. You're all good to go."

I found it harder to force the smile when I knew that Jessica had put her claws through my belongings.

Mike stepped forward, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Bella, are you alright? You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," I lied. "I've just had a bit of a scare today. I think I should call it a day here." I hoped he'd take a hint and leave.

"I can drive you, if you want?" he looked hopeful, but I wasn't having it. I'd had enough attention from the male population today.

"No thanks, I can drive myself home." I said, flipping off the sheets. I ignored the rush of lightheadedness as best I could when I sat up quickly, and after slipping my feet into my sneakers I took my bag from Mike and headed briskly out the door.

After walking a few steps in the hallway I turned back, looking into my room where Mike was standing and murmured foolishly, "Which way is it again?"

…

On the way home I dropped by the grocery store to pick up a few things for lunch. I'd prepared some leftovers for Jake to grab for lunch, but now that I had some extra time on my hands I could make him something for lunch.

As soon as I got home I rushed to do something, _anything. _No doubt if I had a free moment I would think about Edward, and I didn't want to think about him. Or the freaky dream I'd had about him. Or how my neck ached where he'd choked me. Or how I could still feel his cool hand at my cheek, my jaw…

_Digress, digress, digress!_

I focused on preparing lunch. I washed and put the basmati rice on the burner and set on finely dicing the chicken breast to make the stew. I worked especially precisely to stop my mind from wandering.

Forty-five minutes later, and I was proud to have made a fine meal for Jake. I had only thought of Edward three times, which was not a lot, but still three times too many in my opinion. I ate my dinner boiling hot, occupying myself with blowing on each spoonful before eating.

Jake came in at twelve thirteen exactly, and he was surprised at my being home early. "Bella, babe! What're you doing here?" he asked, wrapping me into a warm hug, enveloping me in his warmth. I hugged him back with fervor, loving the feel of him around me.

When I pulled away I realized he was still waiting for an answer. I had hoped the hug would have distracted him a little, but it hadn't.

"Well," I began, unsure of what information to tell, "I had a bit of a rough morning." I watched as his eyes narrowed in concern for me, and I stammered to say what I had to say. "Well, _a lot _of a rough morning."

He walked to the dining table and sat down. "How rough?" he asked.

Instead of answering straight away, I went to the hotplate and grabbed his food. "Lunch? I made rice."

"Yeah. Thanks, babe," he said slowly, watching as I took a seat opposite him. "What happened at work then?" he finally asked. I waited for him to shove a forkful of rice into his mouth before blurting out:

"I got harassed."

He didn't even wait to swallow his mouthful before making a "huh" noise.

I sighed. "This Tyler dude tried to get me to kiss him, you know, got in my face so I kneed him in the bollocks and ran away then I fainted and when I woke up they sent me home for the day."

There was a silence while Jacob chewed.

"Have they arrested the dude?" he asked quietly, looking me up and down.

"No, not yet. Angela wants to hear his side of the story, and if our tales don't add up she'll check the security tapes and take appropriate action."

"Bella, if it's not completely safe for you, then I don't want you to work at that place." His voice was quiet and his expression thoughtful.

And then he started eating again.

I was glad he took it so lightly. I was ashamed to admit that I had been scared of him flipping out like he did sometimes, but the tension was gone and I wasn't worried.

Of course, I hadn't told Jacob that a) Edward Cullen had attempted to kill me, b) he had called me "his", and c) that I couldn't stop thinking about him and how attractive he was.

_It's for the best_, I convinced myself.

Lunch was uneventful after that. As we cleaned up (or rather I cleaned out while he lingered in the kitchen doing nothing) Jake told me about his day, how he and Seth had met up with his other friend, Quil, today.

"He and his girlfriend just got married. You should see how he talks about her. I mean, the way he was throwing the word "wife" about so proudly. You'd think he'd won the lottery or something," he said. I turned around, and his expression was unfathomable. I didn't know what this had to do with anything, really. I just listened to him drabble on about Quil, adding appropriate noises, until he looked at me funny. "What?" I mumbled self-consciously.

He was breathing heavily, his jaw clenched tightly like he did when he was mad. "What?" I asked again, worriedly.

"Did that Tyler bastard touch you?" he said, his voice rising louder and rougher.

I frowned. "What do you—"

"He fucking did, didn't he?" He walked towards me and tilted my head up, touching my neck. I winced; it was still sore after Edward had grabbed it…

Shit.

I pushed past Jacob, heading to the bedroom and sitting at the vanity. I could see the huge menacing bruise on my neck beginning to darken. Thankfully, it wasn't shaped like a hand, but rather it stretched around the front of my neck like a choker. I had some explaining to do.

Jake's footsteps thundered after me. "He choked you, didn't he? How fucking dare he! Bella, I can't believe he would have the fucking nerve to—"

"Jake!" I interrupted, "He didn't touch me, okay?" I shrieked. "I-I made a new friend, erm, Jessica, and she wanted me to try out this blouse. I knew it was too tight for me but I tried to do all the buttons up anyway and I nearly strangled myself in the process."

I was impressed at how convincing my lie sounded. I was usually a terrible liar, but this one was doable. In fact, I _had _done that before when I was seventeen, and it had given me a disgusting bruise very similar to this one…

_Nice one, subconscious. _

"He didn't do that to you?" Jacob asked, his voice relatively tiny compared to a few seconds ago.

"No, Jake, he didn't."

"Oh, alright then," he muttered, defeated. I stood up and gave him a monster hug, feeling his shoulders relax. I giggled into his chest.

"I love you, Jacob,"

"Love you too, Bella."

We stayed in each other's arms for a while. I needed Jake to know I was safe, and I hated to admit that I craved the security that his tanned frame gave me. He was something regular in my life, like an anchor for me to hold onto. He'd seen me at my worse, and he still loved me. His short temper? Just a tiny inconvenience compared to all the wonderful qualities he had.

Jacob was the one to pull away. All traces of worry and anger were gone; it was little-boy Jake again. His eyes lit up in excitement, and I looked at him, smiling.

"Bella, go sit down. I'm gonna make your day better. That Tyler fucker won't be in your shift tomorrow, so it'll be like first day all over again."

_Oh, God. If only he knew. _

"And how do you intend to make my day better?" I said, feigning skepticism.

"You'll see," he winked as I sat down on the bed.

…

It always shocked me to see Jake take care of me. I rarely let him do that, because I'd always been the sensible, down-to-earth one so that he could muck about. And he'd never complained. Well, every now and again when I did what he considered "manly"(changing light bulbs, assembling tables, you know the type) he'd kick up a fuss, but didn't all guys?

So, seeing him take control and actually use his brain was nice… but not when I found my mind drifting to Edwardland. I felt extremely guilty. My fucking boyfriend was pampering me the best he could, and I was daydreaming about a freaking loony!

Jacob and I watched three of my favorite DVDs on the couch, including Pride and Prejudice even though he hated it with a passion. I cuddled into him, using his big frame as a body pillow.

After "Ten Things I Hate About You", he ran to run me a bath. "Love you Jake!" I called, enjoying the special treatment.

"Love you more!" He hollered.

When I got into the warm bubbly bath, I closed my eyes, letting the water's heat sink into my skin like a well needed massage. I managed to focus my mind on Jacob, about when we were younger, in high school…

_What would Edward've looked like in high school...?_

I had a feeling there was no way around this. Whatever I happened to be thinking about, he always snaked his way back to the forefront of my mind. It was beyond annoying, not to mention unfair and cruel to Jacob, who had no idea what today had really been like for me.

"You want some dinner?" Jacob asked. I winced. I hoped he wasn't cooking in _my _kitchen…

"You don't have to go through any trouble…" I shouted out warily.

"Oh, come on, Bella. It's takeaway pizza. Your favorite." I heard the chuckle in his voice as he made his way to the bathroom.

"Yeah, okay, I'll come right out."

"Nope, stay right there! Don't move!" I watched quizzically as he slid a piece of paper under the bathroom door, and wiggled the key out of my side of the door. It fell to the ground with a _clank _ and soon I saw the key disappear under the door along with the piece of paper.

The door opened, and Jacob grinned at my open-jawed expression. "How the hell did you learn to do that?"

"Famous Five books. Enid Blyton was a genius!"

I giggled as he took a place on the seat by the tub and started to feed my Hawaiian pizza slices to me a bite at a time. I could have cried at how cute he was being,

"Laycob yourga mest," I muttered with a mouthful of pizza in my mouth.

"Thanks… I think," he beamed.

After pizza, Jake left me in the bathroom with a fluffy towel and something to change into. It wasn't until I saw what that the "something" was– a set of lacy red underwear- that I realized his plans for tonight.

"You sly dog!" I shouted, putting on the slinky number.

When I came out of the bathroom and wandered into the bedroom, I found a half naked Jacob on the sheets, eagerly awaiting my arrival.

"You look so hot," he said. A blush crept under my skin; I was immediately self-conscious. I turned off the main light so that Jacob would stare at me, but my stubborn man was quick to turn the bedside lamp on to get a good eyeful of my mostly naked albino flesh.

"You _are_ hot," I deflected, looking at his toned stomach and biting my licking my lips the way he liked. I tucked away the tiny whisper in my mind that wondered what Edward would look like topless.

"Fuck, Bella, get over here," Jake growled, a dark lustful glint in his eye. I could see the heavy heave in his chest, the way he scrunched the sheets… and the bulge in his boxers.

I ran and jumped onto the bed, straddling him with a playful roar and switching off the lamp.

"You're the best, Jake."

* * *

**[A/N]** FLUFFY FLUFF IS FLUFF.

I find fluff very hard to write; I hope I didn't bore y'all. :/

And it was painful to write this chapter. My eyes are bleeding.

Review? For the children? (LOL I have no children... but that's besides the point.)

Oh, and happy birthday, Alice103198 :D

* * *

ischiri  
2010-11-01 . chapter 4

Holy cupcakes, Batman!

I've always wanted a psycho-fucked-up-awesome-Edward, and now, you've made my wish come true.

Their relationship is always going to be so messed up, you know? And I usually hate angst, but shizz like this makes me believe in teh emoness.

ILY and I hope you update fairly often for my fix of Psychoward or else, I'mma send you a horny Tyler thx.


	5. I Think You Should Leave

**[A/N] **okayyyguys. I am immensely sorry for the wait, but a little thing called education is stopping me from writing as fast as I want to. I hope you're happy with this chapter, as I think it's a gazillion times better than the last one.

I'm calling out for help: any experienced writers got any advice for adding depth to characters? I think that is the part where I am stuggling the most, and as writing _Mental _is really my practice I'd like you guys to see some improvement with Bella and Jacob's characters as the story progresses.

Okay, I'll let you get reading now...

* * *

"I Think You Should Leave Now."

_**EPOV**_

For the first time in years, I felt genuinely good. I knew the feeling wouldn't last very long, so I allowed myself to savor it. It was sheer bliss; almost as if I was an average person, with normal cravings and desires.

The monster was silent.

As I lay in silence, one person was constantly in my thoughts. Her face was plastered on the front of my mind, and she was very welcome there.

I couldn't get around her gentle beauty, the slight regality she possessed, the silkiness of her hair, the way her body felt pressed into mine, her soft smell, how her chest had heaved so deliciously before my eyes, the sound of her jagged breaths, the nod of her head in compliance with my demands, the roll of her eyes as sleep overtook her…

And she was mine.

All mine.

I refused to entertain the thought that I would never see her again. All that mattered was that she belonged to me, and she knew it. What was the point of inducing thoughts that would bring me out of my ignorant rapture?

I closed my eyes, deciding a nap was in order.

…

When I awoke, far from peacefully— as usual, my stomach ached. Fortunately, it was simply hunger. It appeared that I had slept through lunch, which was unfortunate, because lunch was my favorite meal of the day.

Dinner, however, was tedious. A communal and mandatory event, all were required to be present. That is, of course, unless you happened to be sadistic murderer, in which case you had to spend an hour of your life each day talking to a beefy, childlike security guard.

I glanced at the wall clock. I had an hour to kill, so I sat in my room, ignoring the entertainment offered in the form of books, the keyboard sitting in the corner, or a leisurely stroll to the 'recreation room'.

The elation I had felt before was fading fast. I could hear the rational voice in my mind telling me I wouldn't see my Isabella ever again. I had almost killed her; who wouldn't run a mile from the prospect of death? I had driven her away, and it was almost a certainty that I would never hold her in my arms ever again.

This pain was new.

_Pussy._

I cringed. As if my mood could get any worse, the monster was back, and he was pissed.

_What the fuck, Cullen? She was ours, we could have taken her._

I could feel his fury, his heightened desire for my Isabella.

"You won't have her!" I barked, my eyes narrowing into slits.

_That is what you think, my dear boy. But I always get what I want. _

"Not this time," I whispered. "She belongs to me, and only me." My voice was laced with all the venom and malice I could muster, yet the monster didn't back down.

_Don't forget, Edward, that I am you, and you me. We are one and the same._

I struggled to respond, but with that, he had departed. I hated how he could come and go as he pleased, how he had access to my thoughts and feelings, yet I couldn't tell what he had planned. That hadn't been a problem until now, as our desires had never conflicted. But now it unnerved me. I was scared of what he could do to me, what he could do _through _me.

This fear was new.

I didn't know what I could do. I refused to allow him to win. But there was no way I couldn't lose. He knew my every thought, my every move. He could take control of my body too—a power I didn't know he had until this morning. What else had the monster been hiding from me? Was there more he could do?

Even in his absence, I could feel his ominous smile slither down my spine.

What made things even worse for me was that my metaphorical hunger for a kill was on the rise. Coming so very near to my release, and then denying myself, had undoubtedly increased my craving for the full thing.

But the thought of killing my Isabella, harming her deliberately or otherwise, was repulsive to me.

I stood up and walked to my door, testing to see if it was unlocked. It was. The night shift had begun, then. Only when the night shift had officially begun did people allow me to roam the halls. Emmett would be there, around his post, waiting for me, making sure I didn't go where I was not allowed.

After throwing on a white tee, I opened the door and walked down the corridor, thinking that a change of surrounding would do me some good. The recreation room was quite a distance from my secluded room, but it always felt good to step out of my room and walk around freely.

I didn't see Emmett anywhere.

The room was busier than I had seen it for a long while. About a dozen people were scattered round the room, sitting and chatting, watching the television or playing table tennis. Nobody acknowledged my entry to the room; they knew I wouldn't talk to them. Even Alice, who was sitting with Jane, didn't greet me.

I slinked over to the seat by the window and sat down. The battered communal PC sat unloved in front of me. I pressed the button and waited eons for it to get out of "sleep mode".

The screen was displaying one of those "This website is prohibited" warnings. One of the new faggots had obviously tried to watch some porn on the Home's computer. I sighed and opened up my email account. There were no new messages. What did I expect? For Carlisle to suddenly strike up a conversation with his vicious murderer of a foster son?

I scowled at the monitor, eager to find a distraction to ease my mind away from the monster and his hidden plans. The television behind me was on one of those vampire movies that have somehow become all the rage these days. The bookcase beside me was crammed full of untouched books, and the magazine rack contained one dog-eared copy of _seventeen _magazine.

I logged out of my account and grabbed a pristine copy of _Of Mice and Men _from the top shelf of the bookcase and swiftly exited the room, searching for my dining room and sitting in it alone.

My mind was suddenly engrossed by Soledad ranches and Steinbeck's devilish portrayal of women.

"There is no way in fuck that I am going in there, with _him_," A voice sounded outside the room a good half hour later. The voice was twined with a faint accent, and it was angered, worried.

"Well, this is part of the job description for the night shift security," came the response, Alice's voice. "Shoulda thought of that before you went around assaulting new girls."

I put down my book and looked up, curiosity sparked in me.

"Hey, hey, Pixie, don't go chatting shit. I di'n't assault nobody. And I still ain't goin' in there with that fucker. He could kill me or something." I picked up my book again, pretending to read in case one of them decided to look in through the door's window.

"Tyler, you _are _going in there. Edward isn't that bad. He's been behaving well for the last couple of years, and I'm making good progress with him. He's harmless now. We're considering moving him to the main rooms." I raised my eyebrows. Funny how the day I've been the worst I find that they think I was being good.

"That don't change what he did. I looked at his files. He murdered for kicks. Enjoyed every moment of that shit." I winced.

Alice scoffed. "And you didn't enjoy harassing Isabella? You're just as sick as he was," she spat, pointing an idle finger at me through the window. My blood boiled at the mention of my girl's name. This man thought he could touch, harass, assault my girl? When had he done this?

This fury was new.

"You got no proof, bitch." The obnoxious voice rose, noise muffled by the door.

"Tyler, I do have proof." Alice said softly, nearly too quiet for me to hear. I could hear the anger in her voice and how she strained to keep it under control. "The security tapes are being looked at now by Jasper. Once we find the one we're after, Angela's gonna fire you quicker than you can say "American Dream"."

"Don't be stupid. The cameras round that back bend haven't been workin' since '09. And Angela can't fire me. She wouldn't dare." Tyler's voice was smug, confident.

"And why wouldn't she?" Alice's voice contained a challenge

"'Cos I saved her little weedy husban' from that fire a few years back. She said she'd find a way to pay me back. I think I'll mention that."

Silence.

"Angela wouldn't even think about that," Alice said, her voice losing the gusto it had held. "And you're still going in there. There's no other way. And unfortunately for me, Edward is completely harmless."

Alice departed. I was seething with anger, ready to tear this Tyler's throat from his body. But I held it in.

Tyler punched the wall beside the door. I heard him whimper in pain before I heard the door handle turn. A tall and muscular dark skinned man stood at the door gingerly, looking me over before sitting down opposite me. I carried on pretending to read, until he cleared his throat.

"You're Edward. I'm Tyler. N-nice to meet you," he stammered. In true _Godfather_ style I slowly put the book down and looked him in the eyes. He recoiled. I laughed inwardly, but stayed cool on the outside.

"Where's Emmett?" I asked.

"We swappin' shifts at the moment." Tyler said. His hands found the edges of the coarse linen tablecloth and scrunched, causing the plates and the cutlery to glide about half an inch away from me.

_Don't scare the poor man._

The monster scolded me for frightening Tyler. He knew I planned to kill him, but all the fun was in the hunt. He was right about this. I needed to play with Tyler. Get his guard down.

I chuckled darkly. "What did the big fucker do this time?"

Tyler shrugged, relaxing his shoulders, although his eyes stayed creased with worry.

I poured myself half a glass of water, and took a sip. "That Alice ain't half a bitch, huh?"

His face questioned my change in demeanor, but he accepted. "Tell me 'bout it. She is on my case big time, man," he groaned.

"So, what was she saying about this Isabella person?" I asked, leaning in to appear interested. I had heard enough already to make my mind up to kill him. But I listened anyway, trying to find out if there was anything else I could punish him for.

"Oh my days, girls these days can be little cunts when they wanna be. So this Isabella… whoops, better call her Bella or she'll go apeshit on your ass! I had to show her around the whole place right? I put my arm around her once and she went ballistic. Said she 'ad a 'boyfriend' and tried to act all tough."

"What the fuck?" I said, acting astonished.

"Exactly. So I took her round to the bend behind the regular rooms, you know, the bit where dat gal Jane stays, the bits with no camera?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, although this was news to me. I wasn't aware that there were no cameras there.

"Well, I cornered her, told her to kiss me, then pushed myself into her. An' lemme tell ya," he her body was the softest thing I ever felt against me. Anyway, she was gonna kiss me, then she went and kicked me. Right slam in my jewels. Then the bitch ran away."

"That's tough, man," I said, disguising my complete anger with sympathy. Alice came round, putting fries and a cheeseburger on my plate, and glaring daggers at Tyler while serving him. She left without a word.

I continued to act like I had no problem with Tyler until dinner was eaten and the time came for me to go back to my room.

_It's time; kill him. _

I ignored the way the monster had appeared again out of nowhere. I could feel his glee, his excitement.

I wiped my hands with my napkin and folded it back on the table. Tyler was stood, ready to leave, and I stood too, allowing the anger to manipulate the features on my face, and fists to form at my sides. I was an enraged archangel, intent on perfecting his revenge. I was the demon I hated; the monster I had harbored inside my soul since the day I turned twelve.

I walked behind Tyler, reveling in his false security. I was no friend of his.

He turned, and I swiftly delivered a punch to his stomach with my left fist. As he let out a grunt of pain, I laughed heartily, bending over him and dealing him four hard blows in his gut with my knee.

He let out a howl and I could feel it rising already, the pleasure of causing another pain.

This bliss was new.

There was a new, sweet edge to the usual gratification I felt, a sense of fulfillment I had never felt before.

Tyler sank to his knees, looking up at me, confused and hurting. I gave him my wicked smile, and leaned forward, punching him square in the jaw. I heard a crack; I had dislocated it.

_Excellent. _

"Isabella."

Tyler frowned.

"She belongs to me. You touched her. You will pay." I spoke in small chunks so that his brain would comprehend. I doubted he would understand any complex sentences while his ears throbbed.

He garbled. I didn't listen to his protests, busting his lip with my next strike. His blood spewed, and I laughed.

"What was that? I can't hear you," I taunted, shoving him to the ground on his back and booting his side. Hopefully I broke a rib.

I knelt beside him, looking into his eyes. "What should I do with you, Tyler?" I asked. "Should I kill you? Take a fork or a knife and drive it into your jugular? I have so much choice, you see."

His breath hitched and his hand twitched to his cell, which hung at his side. I took it from him, confiscating it as if he were a small child with a sharp object.

"Naughty, naughty," I tutted, pocketing it. I looked at him, how he writhed in pain, and made my decision.

"Luckily for you, killing you would be too inconvenient for me. You may have heard, Alice is going to move me to the regular rooms. That would be nice, as I'd have much more to do with my time. I hear they have bathtubs in their rooms, but I digress."

His face was scrunched in pain. I slapped his cheek lightly a few times to get him to pay attention, "If you even _breathe_ in my Isabella's direction_,_ I will not hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?"

He whimpered. I took this as a yes, but the monster didn't think it was enough.

_I want him dead! _

I shook my head subtly. If I killed him, I'd never get out of this Home.

Then the monster lunged, my loose fist slamming into Tyler's right eye. I froze as he groaned, and pulled my hand back to my side slowly. The monster chortled within me, amused by my surprise.

_I'm in control here, Eddy._

I stood slowly, and looked down at Tyler. Taking a sip from the glass of water on my side of the table, I stepped over Tyler and headed to the door.

"Oh," I said, turning back, "Let's leave this conversation between us, eh?"

Without waiting for his response I walked away, not wanting Tyler to see the fear that was on my face. The monster had tried, and succeeded, to take control of my body. I had a feeling that he had done that to scare me, to let me know of what he could do. And it worked; I was worried. If I saw my Isabella again, what would he want to do to her?

_I could kill her if I wanted to._

I shivered as I gained speed, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Alice walking towards my dining room. Tyler had better not be in that room when Alice got there.

I went directly to the laundry room, pulling off my shirt, which had splatters of Tyler's blood on it as if Pollock had used it as a fucking canvas.

I threw it into the washing basket, grabbing a starch new shirt from a shelf. I exited and resumed my brisk walk, this time heading to my room and closing the door behind me.

I sat on the bed, the elation I felt mocking my frightened mood. I felt I was no longer in control of myself. If I couldn't control myself, how would I ever get out of this Home?

I threw off my shirt, walking to my bathroom. I needed to sleep; being awake would only allow me to think about my hopeless situation. I took off my pants and boxers and stepped into the shower. With the water almost scalding, I washed away the blood on my hands and the sweat and dirt of the day.

Unfortunately, my troubled thoughts didn't wash away too.

After I was clean and dried, and back in my tee and flannel pants, I switched off my light and slipped into bed. Today had been a rollercoaster of events, and I was physically and emotionally drained. I closed my eyes, feelings of joy and trepidation battling in my mind.

_Nighty night, Edward._

…

The next morning, after my rocky awakening, I got up and headed to my keyboard. I cranked the volume up to maximum and sat on the chair. I hadn't played in weeks.

I started fairly simply, familiarizing myself with the arpeggios of C, D, and E major chords, but settling with a B minor, letting the notes fall from my fingers. The more I thought about not seeing my Isabella, possibly being charged for assault, and the monster, the more my melody became morose and pessimistic. In the end I gave up improvisation, settling with Clair de Lune, letting the familiarity of the notes soothe me.

I skipped breakfast, not wanting to run into anybody who could question me about Tyler. If they were going to interrogate me, I would not run into them. They could come and get me.

I showered again, for lack of something to do. Then I headed to my own little bookshelf, containing the couple dozen books I had had Alice order for me. I picked up my dilapidated copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ and began reading.

I had reached Mr. Collin's Proposal when I heard a knocking. I ignored it, letting the knocker, probably Angela, open the door, step inside and close the door behind them.

"Edward."

The voice was new. A soft, silky wave of sound, cradling fear and nervousness in its arms. I looked up, seeing my girl.

"Isabella!" I gasped, not even trying to hide the happiness I felt inside of me.

This joy was new.

I rushed to her, ignoring the little wince of worry she gave as I approached her. I cupped her face with my hands, feeling her warmth, her softness, her delicate skin. Walking forward, I pushed her body to the wall, enjoying the feeling of trapping her, caging her body, shielding it from the hurt others would give her.

"You're mine," I said, breathing in her scent, groaning a little at our proximity.

She laughed nervously, "I know."

I stepped back, having noticed markings on her neck. I frowned as I realized: I had done this yesterday. I had bruised and tainted her perfect skin. I was disgusted at myself, trailing my fingers along the marking.

_I'm baaaack._

I froze; I removed my hand and body from Isabella, and stepped away. My face no doubt looked terrified, as I stepped away from her.

I backed away further, our distance increasing the anxiety in my mind. The monster had returned, and I was afraid he would make me do something I regretted.

I gulped, looking into her large and inviting eyes, "I think you should leave."

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**[A/N] **Reviewing saves babies. I'm not sure how, but it does. Trust me. :D

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bellarina1  
2010-11-29 . chapter 5

He's more controlled around her. Add in the thrills, posessiveness and creeps. Not to forget, he is planning to get out of the mental, psycho place, so that he can have her. Either way, he is very sure of himself. That, sent waves of shivers down my backbone.


	6. Before He Can Get To You

**[A/N] **well. sorry for the wait again, but exams are over now so I should be getting regular again. Hope everyone has a happy christmas! consider this chapter as a present from me! (because I'm broke LOL)

**ATTENTION!** I love all my readers, but if you are under 18 you should definitely not be reading. I don't want to be responsible for corrupting your innocent brains with this fuckery.

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"Before He Can Get To You."

_**BPOV**_

_A bridge. Me on one side, him on the other._

"_My Isabella. You're _my_ Isabella," he breathed, so quietly that I thought I was imagining it. I stared at his face, the perfection that was Edward Cullen, and took a step forward. The bridge was sturdy, although it had no railing. A fall would be fatal._

"_Come to me, Isabella." His command was but a whisper, yet the sound reverberated in my ears. I took another step, and another, and another, until I was almost in his grasp._

"_Yes, Isabella," he moaned. "You're mine."_

_I was about to take another step when Jacob shouted, "Bella, no!" I turned back, the motion unbalancing me. I took a step to the side and tripped over the edge, falling down, down, down…_

I woke up, breathing heavy, Jacob's arm draped loosely around my stomach. As I moved away, his grip on me tightened. As usual, I counted down in my head, and then sharply rolled off the bed. Sure enough, Jacob didn't wake up. I landed with a small _thud_ on the carpet floor.

I walked straight into the bathroom, involuntarily covering my body even though nobody could see me. My mind was all over the place, thinking about a million things at once. Jacob, work, Tyler, Edward, Jessica, pizza, sandwiches, Angela…

The water was now running, gradually getting hotter. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked a mess: my long curly hair rebelliously sticking out from my head, my eyes heavy with tiredness, and my neck ugly and bruised. While the water heated up I brushed my teeth thoroughly, making sure my teeth were smooth when I rolled my tongue over them.

I stepped into the bathtub, detaching the showerhead from the faucet and feeling the warm water slip over my body. I let out a little moan at how soothing it was. I liked to think of myself as a simple woman, with simple things giving me pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure, last night with Jacob was… average, I supposed. He did all the right things, I guessed: touching, licking, nibbling, teasing, and all that kind of thing. But it wasn't particularly great to be honest. When I was on the phone to Michelle from my dorm in Phoenix, she used to tell me all about how her many lovers would make her feel so damn good during their escapades. I knew Jake wasn't making me feel that good, so I'd lied to her. Said that Jake was the best lover in the world. Said that he made me forget my own name when we fucked. Said that his hands were like magic as they moved over my skin.

Truth was, Jake was just an excited puppy dog. Eager, but sloppy. I can't remember the last time he had made me come without my help. Probably never.

I sighed as I lathered my body up, and watched the suds disappear down the plughole.

Thirty minutes later, I was showered, shampooed, moisturized and making sandwiches for Jake to take to work. I made myself some too, and warmed up some leftover pizza to eat for breakfast. Despite the fact that he hadn't had to cook anything, he'd still made a terrible mess. Crumbs all over the place, the popcorn bowl unwashed and sticky, soda spilt on the counter. I had a few minutes to spare before I was due to go to work, so I got cleaning.

_Edward._

I couldn't deny it; he was there, lingering in my mind, in every moment my mind wasn't occupied. Even in my dreams, he was there, touching me, chasing me, whispering to me…

"_Mine…" _

I could hear his voice, feel his cool breath on my neck, feel his body behind me, crushing me into the firmness of his chest.

I turned around when I heard heavy footsteps behind me. "Boo," Jake said.

Laughing, I turned around, and Jake planted a massive kiss on my forehead. I winced, playfully moving away from him and he smiled.

"I love you," he said.

"Back at'cha," I said weakly. Jake frowned.

"What's up, babe?" he asked. His face then transitioned from worry to cockiness. "Tired from last night, eh?" His smirk was full of the confidence he had in himself. I forced myself to smirk back.

"Yeah, totally. Aren't you? You slept like a log last night."

"Of course, Bella. That was one of the best nights of my life."

I gave him half hearted grunt. "Well, I have to go now. Work's calling."

I picked up my bag and gave Jake a brief kiss on the cheek before leaving the house. Driving the short distance to work in my truck helped me to understand what I was feeling. I was feeling uneasy, dissatisfied. Is this what I wanted for my life?

_Of course it is. Beautiful home, boyfriend, job… Perfect._

So why was I heading to work in such a rush? The same place where I was harassed, almost murdered? Because I liked it? Because the pay was good? Because I had made friends?

_No, no, and no._

I didn't know why I was even driving in, but I was anyway. I convinced myself that it was because of the money. I parked my truck in the spot I parked in yesterday, and walked in to find a wide-eyed Jessica awaiting my arrival.

"What?" I asked. She pulled me to her desk, as if her bitchiness yesterday had never happened.

"Well, you'll never guess what?" she squeaked, as if I was the only person to share whatever news she had with.

"No, I won't. Now excuse me," I said, trying to push my way past her. She dragged me back.

"Hold on a minute. It's about Tyler!" I froze, turning into her. Tyler? Was he out to get me?

"What about him?" I asked, in the strongest voice I could manage.

"He left."

"What?"

"He left." She said, the glee of gossip evident on her face. I sighed in relief.

"Really? He's gone?"

"Yeah. Alice told me he was pretty beat up about the whole 'harassment' debacle."

"Who's Alice?" I asked.

"She works the night shift. Anyway, she said he looked awful when he left."

"As he should. What he did was out of order."

"Yep."

I smiled. I was free from Tyler, and Jessica seemed to not hate my guts. Things were going much better than yesterday.

"Well, I'll be going then. I've got to start on my duties." With a spring in my step, I headed to Angela's office and knocked three times on her door.

A big, dimpled man answered the door. Upon seeing me, he grinned. "Speak of the devil," he said, his booming voice shaking through my body. "You must be Isabella."

"Bella."

"Fair enough. I'm Emmett. Nice to meet the reason I'm on day shift for the first time."

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to mess up your life," I babbled, going red.

"Nah, no problem. Alice was getting on my nerves anyway," another reference to this "Alice" character who I knew nothing about.

"Well, erm, can I speak to Angela?" I smiled, Emmett's grin contagious. I was starting to like him. There was definitely a likeable quality about him.

"Yeah, she's in there. I'm meant to show you around again though. Seems like Tyler got a little… carried away."

"Yeah." My voice came out clipped, and although I fully trusted Emmett not to do the same to me as Tyler had, I shuddered. I pushed the door open and found Angela sitting at her desk, looking flustered. "Hey, Angela?"

"Oh, hi, Bella," She turned and gave me a tired smile. "How did your day go yesterday? Sorry about everything."

"It's alright," I sighed, walking in and sitting opposite Angela's desk. "I'm pretty much cursed. Believe it or not, these things happen to me all the time."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be the only one relieved that Tyler walked out mid-shift last night. Problem is, I'm now short on staff."

"Sorry," I said, feeling partly responsible although it wasn't my fault.

"Don't be silly. You didn't do anything wrong."

Emmett poked his head through the door, "Hey, Ange, what about the guys I said could come through, huh?"

"Oh, shut up, Emmett. I've called them. They're all fast food restaurants." Angela looked more annoyed than amused. As if these pranks happened all the time. Emmett boomed with shameless laughter.

I cleared my throat. "I was wondering what I was going to be doing today? I mean, this is practically my first day," I said.

"Oh, of course. Well, you're going to oversee breakfast with myself and Mike, and then you're going to help Jessica with this backlog of paperwork she's having to deal with. Then, you're on lunch, and I haven't really thought about what you're doing after that."

"Fair enough," I shrugged, smiling. I knew where the dining rooms were, but I let Emmett show me there. Angela was close behind us. It was quite hall, with room to seat about a hundred people. Circular tables with six seats each were dotted around the place. It was half full; it seemed the whole Home had gathered for their first meal of the day.

"Is this everyone?" I asked Emmett, who was on his way to the food. He stopped, looking around at everybody.

"Nope. We got a couple skippers. Namely Edward Cullen, but he's a broody one anyway."

I regarded him, "Edward Cullen?"

"Oh, right, you don't know him," I kept a straight face, despite the fact that my insides were shaking at his mention. "He's a dude, quite scary, actually. The kind that sends shivers down your spine."

I shivered.

"Yeah, just like that," he said.

I looked at Emmett, the tall, brick wall of a man. I couldn't believe that someone could scare him and send shivers down his spine. But this was Edward Cullen. The man whose name alone made my stomach churn, whose smirk was etched into my memory.

"Well," Angela said, snapping me out of my thoughts and pushing me towards the food. "Grab something to eat, Bella, and sit down somewhere. Get to know some people,"

I widened my eyes at her, trying to dissuade her from letting me meet these people. I mean, it was all good in lectures, but this was real life. "Erm, I don't know if—"

"Great! I'll be over there." Angela briskly walked away, sitting next to a red blonde haired woman at a far table.

"Shit," I cursed. Following Angela's instructions, I grabbed a muffin and sat at the nearest table to the door. It was empty apart from the young woman sitting opposite me, who was eating her muffin silently. She had long, wild red hair, with gray eyes and full, pink lips.

"Erm, hi." I said, extending my hand across the table. She eyed my hand warily, grimacing as she took it, shaking it loosely. "I'm Bella. How are you doing today?"

"Why do you want to know?" she muttered, looking me over. I bit my lip, wanting to get up and leave but knowing that I couldn't.

"Because I'm new here and wouldn't mind making a friend," I said, taking my hand back and giving her a weak smile.

"You're lying!" she cried, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes glossing over with tears. "Who would want to be friends with _me?_ Look at me!"

I couldn't quite see what she was talking about. She was an attractive girl, with wide spaced eyes and flawless pale skin. I wanted to say something about her beauty, but I would be digging myself into a hole. "What's your name?" I asked instead.

"Maggie," she mumbled, picking a currant out of her muffin and putting it on her napkin.

"Okay, Maggie. Do you want me to leave you alone?"

She looked up at me, and shook her head vigorously, "No!" I looked at her, trying to figure out why she was being so… difficult.

_Fuck, Bella. This is a mental home. People are meant to be difficult._

I sighed. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this job. "Okay then. Do you want me to be your friend?"

There was a long moment where she didn't speak. She scrunched her eyes shut, as if there was some sort of mental debate going on inside her head. Then she opened her eyes and stared at me.

"I don't know," she squeaked, looking at me expectantly.

"Oh, well, then, I suppose you should… think about it?" I suggested, and then I took a bite of my muffin, wanting to know why the fuck I was here, when I could be somewhere else. Somewhere where people were normal. I felt hopeless sitting next to a real person with real problems. Real disorders. Who was I to think that I would be able to cope? I took another bite, chewing without tasting, anxious eating until I saw Angela come up and tap me on the shoulder.

"Bella, you're wanted. Jessica's waiting."

I could've kissed Angela there and then for saving me. I got up, leaving my muffin on the table, and walked out of the dining hall. As soon as I was out of there, I sprinted to my room.

After slamming the door shut I found myself flopped on my bed, screaming profanities into the pillow. All my vents and frustrations were released, and after I emerged from my room (goodness knows how many minutes later) I felt ready to try again. So what if one girl was being difficult. So what if I couldn't handle talking and mingling at the moment. This was practically my first day here. I'd have loads of time to improve.

I walked to Jessica's little office and gave her a massive grin.

"Are you on something today? You're very chirpy," Jessica eyed me cautiously.

"Nope. So what am I doing here? Angela said there was a backlog?"

Jessica scoffed, "Angela says a lot of things. All I have here is just a _teeny_ _tiny_ lapse in organization."

I raised my eyebrows at her, and she laughed.

"So do you need help or what?" I asked.

"Yeah, I do. Can you get me a coffee?" she asked me with wide eyes.

"Hell no! That shit's not on my job description," I said smugly, leaning on the wall.

"Hold on a second," Jessica said, rummaging through some sheets on her desk. A few seconds later she held up a sheet of paper. My contract of employment. "As you can see here, it _is _on your job description."

I went and got the coffees.

When I came back, I helped Jessica alphabetize some patient files. She had loads of things to collate and she had this stupid habit of sitting on the desk. Every time she did, she made a grand sweeping gesture, knocking all the things we'd organized onto the ground. It was quite annoying actually. But every moment I picked up and filed her documents was another moment I wasn't talking to a patient, so I was kind of grateful.

When Jessica went to put the empty coffee mugs away, I went through the top draw of Jessica's cabinet, meticulously flicking through until I found the name I was after.

_Cullen. _

I pulled it out, and had barely closed the draw when I heard the _clack_ing of Jessica's sensible heels. I stuffed the folder under my shirt, hoping Jessica wouldn't notice the slight protrusion. The plastic was cold against the warmth of my stomach, and as I turned to face Jessica, the top corners slipped under the wiring of my bra, digging into my breasts.

I winced.

"Well, I'll be going now. We've finished all the work here, right?" I asked, my rush to get out a little evident in my voice.

"Well, yeah," Jessica said, "but I thought we could—"

"Great, see ya, bye!" I said, pushing past her and heading to my room again. I closed the door behind me, licked my lips, and sat on the bed. I noticed Edward's room number, C7, on the cover of the wallet as I opened it up.

The first page was his background details. Things like his date of birth, his age (twenty two), his birthplace, list of his foster parents and homes, name of his birth parents, … I soaked up this information, drinking it in eagerly. I wanted to know everything on Edward Cullen.

His parents both died on his twelfth birthday.

I shut the folder, not liking what I was doing. After all, how would I feel if someone was looking up my life history? Even if Edward was a loony, and most probably a criminal, did he deserve being snooped on as if he wasn't human?

_No._

I slid his file into my pillowcase, resolving to return it when I next had the opportunity to.

"_Come to me, Isabella."_

Even though I knew his voice was a figment of my imagination, I wanted to obey. Everything in my life was safe. Jake was safe, the house was safe; this job was safe, secure, simple… Would it really kill me to take a risk every now and again?

_No._

I got up, leaving my room, and tried to retrace my steps from yesterday. Then, I realized there was a map in my bag, showing where the rooms were. I had never been good with maps, but this one was straight forward. I was by the staff area, and Edward was waaay over across the building, in the "C" section.

I was there in ten minutes. My stomach was flipping, my breathing was ragged. My heart thumped audibly in my ears.

I knocked three times. No answer.

"_Come to me, Isabella."_

I opened the door, stepped inside, and shut it again behind me. Then I saw him, lying on his bed, reading a book. He looked as amazing as he had yesterday, in the same white tee, and those flannel pants that hung loosely on the lean muscles of his legs.

I took in a breath, "Edward."

He looked up, his face confused and then it lit up, as if it was Christmas and I was Santa. "Isabella," he gasped, swinging off the bed and coming at me. I braced myself for another attack or something.

_He moves fast._

In a short moment, he was in front of me, his small smile still playing on his lips. His hands held my cheeks, as he looked down on me, into my eyes. I noticed his breathing was deep, measured. Then he started walking forward, and so I walked back, finding my back against the wall of his room.

"You're mine," he said, his mouth at my hair. I didn't know what to say to him after that.

I chuckled uneasily. As if I hadn't heard him say that in my dreams enough, "I know."

He tilted my neck to the side, and I felt the coolness of his fingers brush against my neck. My bruise.

And then I felt the absence of his touch. I looked up, and Edward was moving away from me, looking at me as if I was some sort of monster. I looked at his face, full of fear and terror, and gulped.

"I think you should leave," he said, his velvet voice floating across the room. I gulped again, and took a step towards him.

"Why? I'm not going to hurt you," I said, my voice weak, feeble. I stepped again, nearing him, maintaining eye contact with him.

He laughed, a callous laugh, "Of course you're not," he said dismissively. He closed his eyes, and I used that opportunity to walk towards him. I was so close to him now, I could hear his breathing.

"Isabella…" he breathed into the air around us. His voice was strained. I could feel his hands travel from his sides to mine, up my thighs until he was holding my hips tightly, pulling me closer. "You don't know how much I want you."

I looked up at him, and his eyes were open, but glazed over, like he wasn't even here. I jerked my head to the door in a panicked gesture, but his grip tightened on my body.

"Don't go," he hissed.

I stayed still, not really having much choice. I shivered, and he groaned.

"God, Isabella," he said, gaining desperation. "He wants to take you, but you're mine, Isabella. You're mine!"

"Who?" I couldn't help myself from asking, "Who wants to take me?"

"Both of us. We both want you. But you belong to me and me alone."

"Yes, Edward. I know. And I think he knows too," I said, talking patronizingly, trying to calm him.

"That's the problem. He knows. He's taunting me, Isabella. Playing with my mind. He wants to take you away from me. I won't let him!" With each sentence, his grip on me tightened.

I lifted my arms, reaching up to cradle his face in my hands, like he had with me a few minutes ago. He let out an impossibly long breath, and his hold on me slackened slightly. I stroked the firmness of his cheeks with my thumbs, breathing shakily as I felt light hairs around his jaw.

"Shhh," I crooned, moving closer to him, "I'm here now, so stop all the fucking fuss, or I'll leave."

Edward scoffed, as if he wasn't taking me seriously.

"I mean it! I'll leave and never _ever_ come back to you, Edward!" To emphasize my point I yanked myself away from him. I almost broke out of his clutches, hut then he tugged me back into him, this time with my back to him.

"Isabella," he chuckled, "you are so adorable when you are angry. Like a little kitten." I was fuming, as I always was when I felt embarrassed. I tried to pull away from him, but he kept pulling be back into him. He moaned shamelessly, "I want to do wicked things to you, Isabella. Very wicked things."

He spun me around, facing me, leaning down. I gasped as he pressed his cool lips against mine, first softly and then with a fierceness I hadn't felt before. His hands slinked their way down my back, effortlessly slipping under my jeans and my panties. I whimpered as his hands cupped and squeezed my ass cheeks tightly. My hands reflexively went for his pants, the thin flannel giving me access to his glorious hardness. I took him in my hand, holding him firmly in my fist.

"Yes," he groaned, his lips leaving mine for just enough time for me to catch my breath. The he crashed his mouth back onto mine, forcing my lips apart and pushing his tongue into my mouth. It lashed at the inside of my mouth, claiming me. He pulled me closer to him, my stomach brushing against my hand. My hand twitched, and Edward let out another moan.

Then he pulled away, taking his hands from my ass cheeks, removing my hand from his cock and looking into my eyes.

"Mine," he said.

"Yours," I confirmed.

"Now leave," he said quietly.

"What?"

He pushed me softly, in the direction of the door. "Get out of here. Now. Before he can get to you."

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**[A/N] **I fail at all things citrusy. (Nothing was meant to happen between them, but hey, it's Christmas. Plot be damned.) Don't worry, I'll get better at them.

Also, longest chapter yet. (I broke my "eight page rule" :O )

Reviewing saves elves. Baby elves. Do it. Pwease? :D

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TD69  
2010-12-24 . chapter 6

I just came across this story & love it. This is one true & genuine crazy Edward; no misunderstandings or false accusations. Awesome!


	7. After All

**[A/N] **Happy new year! This chapter is a recap of the last for those who wanted EPOV (mainly me!) on the almost lemon, plus some Edward semi-fluff. I'm not going to hold my next chapter up for ransom like some authors do, but I'd really appreciate it if I got 20 reviews for this chapter before I update! I know there are more than 93 people who enjoy this story enough to put it on alert! (BTW, that's very flattering) Okay, I'll shut up now and let you read.

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After All

_**EPOV**_

I watched her.

I knew I wouldn't be able to bear to see her leave. But by leaving me, she would be safe. I wouldn't be able to hurt her, a thought that overwhelmed my desire to be near her. Each second she was in front of me, occupying the same room as me, breathing the same air as me, she was in danger. I could kill her with but a flick of my wrist. _He _could kill her with but a flick of my wrist.

_Why, yes I could._

I watched Isabella take a step in the wrong direction. "Why?" Her voice was soft. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I laughed. It was preposterous to even suggest that she would be able to harm me. She was slight, tiny and weak. "Of course you're not."

I squeezed my eyes shut. There was no comfort in the action, as when my eyes were shut, I could hear the monster's voice with no distractions.

_Hopefully she won't leave. I like the look of her._

I frowned as I felt the air around me shift. I was suddenly flooded with her scent; she was close to me. My hands twitched, her imminence sparking my need to touch her. I forced myself to hold back a groan.

"Isabella . . ." Her name lingered in the air long after the word was said. I couldn't help myself; I let my hands breeze up her thighs. Opening my eyes, I let my gaze linger on the wall I had forced her against a few moments earlier. I pulled her in, reveling in her company. Did she realize how soft she was? How incredible it felt to just touch her? How enticing her presence was? "You don't know how much I want you."

_I want her too!_

In the periphery of my vision, I saw Isabella pull away from me. In a reflex action, I yanked her back to me. "Don't go," I ordered her.

She trembled at my command, and I moaned out.

_She feels nice. I wonder how good she'd feel when I take her for good._

I could feel my heart rate quicken in response to the monster's thought. "God, Isabella," I cried, "He wants to take you, but you're mine, Isabella. You're mine!"

"Who? Who wants to take me?" she asked. I could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

"Both of us. We both want you." I heard my voice deepen as the foreign possessiveness stirred within me. "But you belong to me and me alone."

"Yes, Edward. I know." Hearing her affirmation caused a sudden burst of joy to run through me. "And I think he knows too."

_I _will _take her from you, Edward._

The monster's adamancy rapidly switched my joy with desperation. "That's the problem," I whined, "He knows. He's taunting me, Isabella. Playing with my mind. He wants to take you away from me. I won't let him!"

I didn't realize I was grabbing Isabella tightly until she moved, her arms rising above her head as her hands held my face. The contact was enough to make me expel the air I had been holding in my lungs. I loosened my grip on her, ambivalence reigning. I wanted her to be with me, yet I needed her to be safe. And she wasn't safe with me.

She seemed to sense my struggle, and her thumbs circled my face in a soothing, maternal gesture. The touch of another person, the caring touch of a _woman _made my chest ache in a painless, unfamiliar way.

_Pussy. _

"Shh," she cooed, her body pressing closer to mine, "I'm here now, so stop all the fucking fuss, or I'll leave."

I scoffed, a mocking noise. She wouldn't leave until I told her to leave. It was me who had the final say, and not her.

"I mean it!" her singsong voice chided, "I'll leave and never _ever_ come back to you!" Her words elicited something in me. It was impossible to even think that Isabella would leave me. She was _mine_, and she knew it. Nobody was going to take what was mine away from me.

_Even me? _The monster goaded.

Even him.

I laughed Isabella's protest off, and pulled her back to me effortlessly, though she was not facing me anymore. "Isabella, you are so adorable when you are angry. Like a little kitten." I could almost feel her irritation coming off her in waves.

_What a vixen!_

He was right about that. For her size and stature, she sure held a sizable amount of passion within her. She was thrashing against me, her pert little ass bouncing against my rapidly hardening member. I rolled my eyes, feeling my lust for her swell. I allowed myself a moan. "I want to do wicked things to you, Isabella. Very wicked things,"

_She's mine, Edward. I want her, and I will definitely have her._

I ignored the monster's pull, feeling him try to grind me into her ass. Of my own volition, I turned her around to face me once again, pressing my lips onto hers without a second thought. The chastity of the action quickly grew dull, and so I pressed harder, slipping my hands under the waistbands of both her jeans and her panties, grabbing at the soft, supple flesh of her ass and groaning onto her face.

Mine.

Her hand wrapped around my throbbing length. "Yes," I groaned against her lips, greedily palming her ass cheeks. She was so fucking warm and soft; my mind was on a high. I pushed further, my tongue breaking through the barrier of her lips and lapping at every corner of her mouth, surveying my property.

_Come to Daddy._

The monster pulled her closer to me, causing Isabella's hand to jerk blissfully around my shaft. I groaned, before realizing that the monster had taken control of me again, this time near Isabella. I couldn't afford to let him take her from me.

I abruptly pulled my hands from inside her jeans, immediately missing the gentle heat of her flesh. I removed her little fingers from my member, and stepped away from her, looking into her doe eyes with an intent gaze. Her face was flushed, a blush rouging her otherwise pale cheeks.

"Mine," I said.

"Yours," she said, sending a wave of victory through me. I gulped inaudibly, knowing I had to let her go lest the monster try something rash.

"Now leave."

_Why? So soon?_ The monster smiled at my cowardice.

"What?" Her surprise was clear, as well as something else . . . Relief? Disappointment? Why did my girl have to be so fucking difficult to read? I gave her a gentle push in the direction of the door.

"Get out of here," I ordered her, knowing how well she responded to my commands. "Now. Before he can get to you."

She stood still after gaining her bearings, and her innocent, wide spaced eyes widened at me. I could feel _him, _the monster, pushing me towards her. My feet shuffled slightly in her direction, despite my protest. I gritted my teeth in the effort it took to stay away from her.

"_Now, _Isabella."

My mind was split as I forced myself to watch her leave me. It was a good thing, because when she left, the monster would not be able to touch her. However, it was a bad thing too, as I wanted her by me, I wanted to touch her and I wanted to taste her on my tongue again.

She turned her back on me, walking the short distance to the door. "Bella," she whispered.

It was my turn to question her. "What?"

"Call me Bella," she mumbled shakily as she left.

I exhaled.

I was alone, with the monster. I sighed; I felt relief at the fact that Isabella wasn't here anymore. I walked back to my bed and sat down, thoughts flicking through my head quicker than I could really comprehend them.

All I was sure about was that she was mine.

The girl I had just sent away belonged to me. Her warmness, her soft flesh, her full lips, her flushed skin, her silky hair, her enticing neck, her heaving chest, her appealing voice and her chocolate brown eyes were owned by me and me alone. She was mine, and I wanted to take her, claim her, _possess_ her, and mark her like the primal creature I found I was.

Without thinking, I pulled my pants down to my ankles and held my raging hard-on in my right hand. It felt nothing like _her_ hand, but I still heard my breath hitch at the sensation. It had been far too long. I pumped my shaft, sweet pleasure building as I watched the head of my cock bob in and out of my closed fist.

Isabella was mine.

_Bella _was mine.

Bella was mine.

Bella was mine.

My heart pumped faster than my fist as my blissful mantra pushed me close to the edge and then headfirst into orgasm. I gripped my bed sheet with my left hand, stroking frenetically until thick spurts of my seed burst from my cock, showering the linoleum flooring of my room.

I listened to my breathing eventually slow as my body came down from my release.

_Having fun?_

The monster's voice was soft, laced with the pleasure I was feeling. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore him, to ride out the sensation before there was nothing left of it. Once I was satisfied, I heard him speak again.

_She's nice_.

I felt my features fold into a scowl. Who did he think he was to be commenting on Isabella? I angered me to hear him even mention her.

"She's mine." My voice was gruff with my agitation. I pulled my pants up, leaning back on the bed.

_We can share._

"Never!" I barked, feeling anger bubble up in my chest. "I will _never _share her."

_Calm down. How long have you known her? Has it even been twenty-four hours?_

"Be quiet!" I snapped, clutching my head in an attempt to shut his voice out of my mind. I knew the action was futile.

_What's so different about her? We shared all the other whores you've fucked over the years._

I felt him leave, but I knew his endeavor to anger me was successful. I snarled, the vicious sound tearing through the air as I stood, seeking something in my vicinity to destroy. The bookcase to my left was my target, and I lunged at it, seizing it and hurtling it across my room onto the wall opposite. The loud _thud_ and subsequent _clatter _of the cheap wooden case fueled my lust for an emotional outlet. I cried out, the vexation not fading. Walking towards the mess, I picked up a large slab of wood and smashed it repeatedly onto the ground, splintering it to smithereens without much effort.

Not satisfied, I picked up another plank, and another, until all that was left before me was a pile of sawdust-covered debris.

I wiped my brow, only then noticing the sheen of sweat that covered my face. I frowned, not remembering what had pulled me into the rage that was currently simmering down.

Oh. Isabella.

She was _not_ a whore. She was my girl, my possession. Mine. I couldn't reiterate it enough. I didn't care what the monster thought; I was not ever sharing her. No man would ever touch her, but me. The thought of another man's hands on her disgusted me.

The monster's question, however, replayed in my mind. What _was _so different about her? Why did she make me feel the way I did, and conjure up feelings I didn't know I had? Why did she bring me so much joy upon seeing her? It wasn't as if I didn't have the opportunity to talk to or even fuck the women in this Home. This place was understaffed; I would be able to get away with anything short of murder.

Murder.

The thought triggered the familiar and hollow ache in my stomach. I needed my unholy release more than ever now, having cockblocked myself twice in the space of two days. In retrospect, I should have killed Tyler. He had touched Isabella, pressed his body into her and even had the audacity to marvel at how soft she felt! Thinking about the fucker made me reel. He didn't deserve my compassion. I could have conceded, given in to the monster's request to kill him. I would have enjoyed every second of his death; felt that new, pleasurable edge to my usual bliss.

Though no bliss could compare to the bliss that I had felt when Isabella's little hand wrapped around my shaft. I was beginning to think she was an angel, my own _personal_ angel whose touch, even through clothing, alleviated all of my stress and calmed me. There was no other explanation to it. It explained the unnatural smoothness of her cheeks, the way her gait held majesty and meekness, the unearthly silkiness of her hair.

That was the only way she could have made me so volatile in only a day. I was feeling things I didn't usually feel, my thoughts were whizzing through my head quicker than I could really keep track of. She was like a drug; she confused me, put me on a high as soon as she walked through my door—

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by the opening of my door. A flustered looking Angela walked in, followed by Emmett, who grinned and flexed his muscles, blatantly eager for a confrontation with me.

Angela looked me over warily, and glanced at the shards of splintered bookcase in the middle of my room. Then she gasped, skipping over my damage and crossing the distance between us.

"Edward! Your hands!"

I looked down at them, not sure what she was talking about, and noticed for the first time that they were raw and bleeding. And also most likely splintered.

"Shit, man. That's rough," Emmett said, whistling. I growled softly at him, annoyed.

"Why, Edward, did you do this, huh?" Angela said softly, in a tone that would've calmed me a week ago. Now, the only voice I wanted to hear was Isabella's.

"I got angry."

"And why did you get angry, Edward?"

I gulped. "Because."

Angela nodded slowly. I knew where this would lead. "Are you having another episode?"

I crunched my teeth together reining in my anger. Rage was not a good emotion to show when I needed to kill. "I am _not_ crazy, Angela."

I was not mental. I was not normal, but I was definitely not crazy. I was a man, one who faced his demons every day. Was that so strange? Didn't everybody else have their own challenges to face? Was I the only one with troubles?

"You're right. You aren't crazy," Angela said. She sighed softly. "You're ill. And you need to take medicine to make things better for you."

I looked down at my hands, not even feeling the pain that I should have been feeling. I was numb. Completely numb.

"Is _he _speaking to you again?" she said. I snapped my eyes up, meeting her gaze instantly. "Is he here now, Edward?"

I shook my head dumbly. He had left just before I had started demolishing my furniture. I wasn't surprised that he didn't show up. He probably knew that I would have done something stupid in the messed up state of mind that I was currently in. He couldn't trust me to behave myself with him around. Hell, _I _couldn't trust me to behave myself with him around.

It wasn't a good feeling.

And what Angela didn't know, was that the monster never left me. She believed that he had been absent for the last two years, and that he had stayed absent even after the Home had weaned me off the antipsychotic medication. My outburst had obviously led her to believe that he had now 'returned' to me.

Even though I had not been telling her about him, even though I had managed not to kill anybody or attempt to do so, even though I was actually holding short conversations with the staff, the monster had never left me. He probably never would.

Not until I died and he found another fucker to possess.

"Well, Edward. You come with me, we'll clean you up, and then we'll be in time for lunch, eh?"

I nodded again, knowing I had probably ruined my chance to move to the regular rooms, to escape. I looked at the irreversible damage I had done to the bookcase and gulped.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, putting on an apologetic face. "I got angry that he . . . came back."

Angela gave me a small smile. "That's okay, Edward. No problem." I knew how to play her; she looked at me as if she was pleased that I had apologized. She led me around the mess I had made and out to the hall, leaving the door open for Emmett to come out after us.

"Emmett?" Angela looked behind her, her gaze lingering on Emmett behind me.

"Yeah, Ange?"

"When we get back, could you ask Bella to clean up Edward's room before she heads to lunch?"

At the mention of her name, I smiled to myself. It was a small smile, but I still noticed how she gave me joy, even when she wasn't with me.

It took at least twenty minutes to clear my hands of any splinters, spray antiseptic on all the open wounds and bandage them. All the while, Angela was trying to convince me that I had issues.

I didn't have issues.

"I don't have an illness, Angela." I said for the umpteenth time, trying desperately to keep my anger in check. The constant repetition of her accusations was getting tiresome.

"Edward, trust me! We got rid of him last time, didn't we? He doesn't have to rule your life. You can be free of him for good if we just get you back on the injections!"

"No."

"Please, Edward. The first step to helping yourself is acknowledging that you have a problem! And you do, Edward. You do have a problem. Ignoring it would only be detrimental to you!"

"No."

"It's okay; take your time to think about it. I can't force it onto you, but I can tell you that you may even get discharged if your symptoms completely disappear. It's a slim chance, but entirely possible."

I ran my hand through my hair, messing it up even further. This was certainly a predicament. If I were to take this medication in order to escape, it would involve confessing to having a mental illness that I frankly didn't have, and succumbing to some hindering side effects that were not good at all for me. But if I didn't do anything, then I was sure to stay in this home forever, with no hope of escaping.

I growled, walking out of Angela's office in the direction of the lunch room. Angela followed me, only to check that I was in fact heading to the hall. I wasn't sure of what to do.

_Take it._

I growled again, louder. "Shut up," I said. Why did he choose then to come back? To haunt me? Why couldn't he give me just a day alone? Why did he have to ruin my life? Why couldn't I be normal?

Entering the hall, I sat in my usual seat, the one geographically closest to the exit. I scanned the room for any signs of the food, the usual sandwiches and juices that were pre-packed and ready for me to take into my room. I never stayed in the hall for lunch. I found the people here quite dull, all with their own little problems that I didn't ever want to hear about. Lunch was the only meal with the option of eating in your own room, and for that I favored it above all other meals.

It seemed too early; hardly anybody was here and the whole place was eerily quiet.

_I'm starving._

I scoffed. It was true, though. I, _we, _hadn't eaten since yesterday evening. Skipping breakfast was a usual for me, and it often left me eating double portions of lunch to make up for it.

I turned to the sound of doors opening behind me, my body tensing for a possible threat. But I relaxed immediately when I saw my girl walk in the door.

I beamed, watching her walk in my direction. Once she saw me, she smiled back, sitting opposite me on the same table. Her face flushed instantly.

"Hello," I said, looking at her, confident that the monster would not try anything rash— at least not in public anyway.

"Hello." Her voice was shaky, nervous. She looked away from me, her hair swishing, sending her fruity scent my way.

_Beautiful._

I guess I would be staying for lunch after all.

* * *

**[A/N] **Guys, I am just as excited for an actual lemon as you are. TRUST ME. But I am a big fan of expertly timed lemons. *sighs*

If you need a quick fix of lemons, though, I have two one-shots to rec. The first is Wife Swap by Heartily Desire. Even though t's non-canon (which I usually hate), I found it hot and hilarious. Go drop a review!

The second is A Violation of Desire by TheInsatiableVampire. One word... JIZZ.

Reviewing saves baby carrots from my snacking habits. DO IT. Please!

* * *

fiercepixie  
2011-01-10 . chapter 7

I like this dark and twisted Edward, he gave me the chills! Nice lemon teaser,can't wait for more. I love EPOV and can't find very many so I absolutely drool when I get to read his side...espescially when he is dark! Great chapter!


	8. Dead

**[A/N]** Hey, guys! Remember me? LOL I know it's been a long time, but if any of you are familiar with the term _writer's block,_ you will know how I've been for the past three weeks. I've been in proverbial _hell. _ I have the best readers in the world, but you guys have the absolute worst author :/ I literally just finished writing this. Enjoy.

Oh, and for future reference: this story is not legally accurate (in case you hadn't guessed). It's just an exercise for me, so don't pull me up on the fact that Edward's not in jail!

* * *

"Dead."

_**BPOV**_

I could taste him on my tongue.

I stood against the wall, my heart still thundering in my ears despite the purposefully long and slow walk I had taken. I could feel him around me, smell his breath mingling in the air. He was everywhere. Even though I was far away from him, he was still in the thoughts churning through my head, and the lust churning through my body.

Never before had a man made me feel so damned hot.

I knew what I had done with Edward was unacceptable. It was unlike me to be so thoughtless, so careless, so excited by the prospect of actually _getting_ _off_ for once. I had Jacob. He loved me with all his heart and we were great together. We were destined to be together forever, maybe even have a few albino-russet babies many years from now. He would never _ever_ think of kissing somebody else, so why was Edward's face tacked onto the walls of my mind?

Why did a few minutes with Edward leave me breathless, when hours with Jacob left me frustrated?

Why wasn't I feeling too guilty about reaching for another man's hard-on?

Jacob was my first love. Hell, he was my first _everything_. He was my best friend, my caring, loyal boyfriend. So why the hell had I stepped toward Edward when he had given me an out?

He was a _murderer. _What part of that did my brain not understand?

There were too many questions running through my head for me to really concentrate. Logically, I should have backed the fuck away from Edward. But who knew what was going on in my head in those minutes, when I was walking towards his room? It was like his voice, even when my mind was making it up, had had a hypnotizing effect on me. Like I wouldn't be able to refuse anything he told me to do…

I shook my head. No. I wouldn't be going anywhere near Edward. He was trouble. He was on his way to changing everything I had set up for myself. He was creeping into my dreams, messing with my logic, my common sense, my _sex life_ for God's sake! He was making me questions about myself; his existence was forcing me to evaluate my level of happiness.

_There you go again, Bella. All you're thinking about is him._

The whole thing was beyond absurd.

I stood upright, resisting the urge to retreat into my room behind me. Instead, I turned and walked towards Angela's office. She'd have to have something for me to do. Inactivity was undoubtedly freeing my mind to wander, and I couldn't allow that anymore.

The fire of lust inside of me was beginning to wane, although somewhat reluctantly. I would be lying if I said that Jacob had ever made me feel so aroused. He hadn't even come close to what I'd felt twenty minutes ago.

_Enough, Bella. _

I pushed the door to Angela's room, opening it cautiously in case she was busy. To my despair, it was empty. Angela was not there to give me a task, a much needed distraction. I cursed silently, heading to Jessica's little office, knowing that she'd at least tell me to make her a hot drink. I'd do _anything _to keep my mind on track.

"Oh. My. Fucking. Lord!"

I hadn't even opened my mouth in greeting when Jess yanked me by my wrist to one side, her curly brown hair bouncing energetically as she squealed.

"What?" I asked, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the way she was talking. It was like high school, all over again.

"You know Cullen, right?" she said, her eyes holding the familiar glint that was only sparked by gossip. I tried to act nonchalant at the mention of _his _name, but I could tell I was failing. My pulse quickened, my throat dried up, and I desperately attempted to tame the beast that was my newly found sexual appetite.

"Erm, _no, _I don't," I lied, knowing that if Jessica wasn't so eager to spread whatever story she was about to tell me, she would have noticed.

"Oh, right, you don't." Beat. "I told you a bit about him before?" She waited for me to nod my affirmation before continuing. "Anyway, Mike was minding his own business, just passing by Cullen's room, and what does he hear?"

I didn't realize the question wasn't rhetorical until she sighed at me. "What did he hear?" I croaked, my voice cracking a little, fading into a reverent whisper. Jessica smiled, most likely believing that my sudden interest in what she had to say was due to her storytelling skills.

She looked around, although there was nobody around to overhear us. "The sound of smashing," she said, her low volume and tone matching mine. I narrowed my eyes, curious, giving her the non-verbal cue to keep going.

"Smashing?" I echoed.

"Yeah," Jessica replied, stepping impossibly closer to me. "Smashing. Like the smashing of furniture. Edward Cullen was tearing his room apart."

I listened intently, ignoring the feeling of dread that was threatening to surface. "Does he . . . Does he usually tear his room apart?" I breathed.

"No. That's the weird thing. He's had near spotless behavior for the last two and a half years. Alice and Angela were set to move him to the regular rooms next week as well as give him more time to roam around. Maybe even in a couple of years they could appeal to have him released."

I gulped. "Really?"

Jessica nodded. "Yep. I can show you his file if you want—"

"No!" I shrieked, panicking and grabbing her wrist to stop her from looking for it. It was still sitting there in my pillowcase. I'd surely be found out if she saw that it was missing. Seeing her freaked-out expression, I hastened to add, "We spent all morning cleaning this place up. Plus, I want to hear it from you."

"Well, of course you do," she said, oblivious to the real reasoning behind my outburst. "What I'm trying to work out is what has happened in the last few days that would make him angry. I mean, besides _you_ starting to work here. From how he usually behaves, you'd never think he'd murdered a couple dozen people."

My breath caught in my throat. A _couple dozen _people? Like, _twenty four _people? I had already guessed that Edward Cullen was a murderer but that number was serial-killer crazy. I suppressed a shudder, knowing for sure that his room-tearing antics were my fault. One way or another, I had caused him to flip out. When I next saw him, what would his reaction to me be?

I sighed. _If _I saw him. I wouldn't go near him if I could help it.

"What did Mike do?" I asked, eager to steer the conversation away from me. Jessica didn't notice. She certainly wasn't very perceptive when it came to conversation.

"Oh, well, Mike just ran away. What did you expect? He's just a little pussy." She laughed. "Angela and Emmett left to go calm Edward down a little while ago."

"Both of them?" I asked, knowing now why this place seemed a little empty. With Jessica and I here, Mike doing whatever, and Angela and Emmett calming Edward down, who was looking after everyone else?

This place was severely understaffed.

"Of course. We wouldn't want Edward to break a chair over Angela's head now, would we?" I gasped at her remark, at how she said it so casually, as if something like that happened every day.

"Has that happened before?" I asked, afraid for Angela as well as myself.

"Oh, not a chair," she said. "But a few years ago, this girl Jane, her brother set Angela's house on fire. Her husband almost died."

I frowned. Why the hell had this not been said on the job advertisement? This place was even more dangerous than I had thought, with opportunities to get hurt lurking at every fucking corner. If Edward Cullen hadn't scared me away from this place, what else would?

"You're serious?" I asked wearily, not really knowing what other dangers this place held.

Obviously, Jessica was only telling me the bad things, but this was still quite terrible to hear. Did she know that she was seriously putting be off working here anymore?

"Yep, totally. But you should be fine. Plus, we're in the process of hiring new people. We had to let go of loads of people after the fire because we couldn't afford to keep them on. We've been granted more money now. You're the first of a few new people to come in."

"That's good, then," I said slowly, still convinced that I was still unsafe. Perhaps if I hadn't almost gotten killed by Edward Cullen, I would have felt reassured by the fact that more people were going to work here. But I doubted I would ever feel truly safe here.

"Hey, Bella! Cleanup on aisle four!"

Not expecting the booming voice, I jumped, turning to see Emmett walking towards us, a long broom and dustpan in hand.

"What?" I asked him, taking the cleaning tools he was thrusting in my direction with a confused look on my face.

"You know that Cullen guy I was talking about this morning?" Emmett asked. I was getting rather tired of people asking me that question.

"No, I don't."

"Well," he chuckled. "You're gonna clear up his room. He smashed his bookcase up."

I pouted. "Why me?"

"Because. Now, do you want me to show you the way to his room?" Emmett asked.

"Wait a sec, why did Edward smash his bookcase up?" Jessica asked him. I could tell by the way she was twitching around that she was dying to know. Heck, _I _was dying to know. I was certain that it was somehow my fault, but if it wasn't . . . I could at least be guilt-free.

_Guilt-free? _

Did that mean I felt guilty for somehow making Edward angry, therefore ruining his chance of ever getting out of this place? Wait, _what did I care?_ People like him, _murderers_, needed to stay in confinement, anyway. If anything, I was doing society a favor by damaging his chances of being released.

I didn't feel guilty. Why should I?

"The voice inside his head came back," Emmett said, his voice holding an almost sympathetic tone. He frowned. "I guess he felt scared and got angry. Hell, I don't blame him. I'd freak if I could hear voices that weren't there."

Voices?

"_He wants to take you, but you're mine, Isabella. You're mine!" _

I let out a gush of air, as I recalled what Edward had said to me. I had assumed straight away that this "_he_" he'd mentioned was an actual person, someone who wanted to hurt me. But what if he had been referring to himself? Or at least, a part of himself that he treated as a separate person?

Did that even make sense?

"I know, right?" Jessica chimed in. "You know, he lived with that voice for, like, five years before he got treatment for it? How the fuck did he deal?"

"He didn't. _Killing people _isn't dealing. That's like the opposite . . ." Emmett's voice got quieter and quieter, as my mind strayed.

Edward heard voices, and believed that the voice was _bad_. That it wanted to hurt me somehow. That it was able to hurt me somehow.

"_He's taunting me, Isabella. Playing with my mind."_

I gulped again. My mind's re-creation of Edward's voice was unnaturally smooth, yet jagged with his despair. The helplessness in his tone reached out to the part of me that yearned to help people, the very same part of me that had driven me to study Psychology as opposed to English or American Literature. It was the same part of me that didn't mind cooking for and looking after Jacob all the time. The same part of me that thought it was a good idea to work here, and still come back after I almost got killed.

"…and take a left, keep going until you see number 7. You got that, Bella?"

I snapped back into the conversation, nodding mutely as I gave a little smile. There was no way in hell that I would admit that I hadn't been listening at all, just lost in my thoughts.

"You sure you don't want me to show you the way to Cullen's room?" Emmett said to me, his brow rising as if he knew I hadn't heard a word of what he'd said.

"No, I'm fine. I know the— I mean, I heard where to go." I felt my cheeks redden. It seemed like everybody was trying to catch me out today. I left without saying a word to either Emmett or Jessica, clutching the broom tightly in my palm, trying to stop my mind from comparing it to the feel of Edward's rock-hard cock in my hand.

_Too late._

When I got to Edward's room, I made quick work of tidying the remains of what used to be a very nice bookcase. I couldn't fathom the amount of strength and rage Edward had needed to obliterate it so completely. Nor could I fathom what I had done to anger him so much. I could literally smell the sawdust in the air.

Once the shards of wood were cleared away from his room, I picked up all the books that had been scattered and stacked them in the empty corner where the bookcase most likely once stood.

I hastened to get out of his room. Somehow, it reeked of _him_, and I didn't want to be around him. He was dangerous, a murderer, and the voice in his head was probably willing to kill me. There was nothing good to come from Edward Cullen. Nothing at all.

I straightened his crumpled sheets on his bed before turning to get the hell out of there. As I turned, I noticed an old _Yamaha_ keyboard on his desk.

_He plays? _I thought to myself. Walking towards the thing, I bent down under the table, finding a small box with stacks of paper inside. I lifted one, bringing it close to my face in order to decipher the tiny scrawlings. It was music paper, with notes and lines connecting them everywhere across the page. It had no title, only a date, which was three months ago. Gulping, I returned the paper and box to where they originally were, not sure how I'd reacted to the new information.

At long last, I left, walking in no rush to the lunch room. Angela had said that I would be helping out there this morning. To be honest, I was completely dreading it. I certainly did not want to try talking to one of the 'guests' again. If Maggie was any indicator to the state of mind most of these people were in, then I would be in for a spin.

As I rounded off the penultimate corner, my mind reluctantly flashing to Edward again. Would he be there at lunch, or was he skipping that too? How would I avoid him? Why did he seem bent on destroying me?

"_I think you should leave."_

I furrowed my brow in confusion. Why _had_ he said that? He'd gotten so close to me, pressed me against the wall, sniffed my hair . . . why had he even given me an out? Didn't he say I was _his_?

"_Get out of here. Now. Before he can get to you."_

I quietly dropped the broom and dustpan onto the floor against the wall, mulling over Edward's words. Then I walked in confusion, until it finally hit me.

Edward was referring to his voice.

Edward sent me away.

_Edward was trying to protect me._

It made sense, I guessed. This voice had wanted to do something harmful to me, and he was going against it, _against a part of himself,_ to protect me. For some reason he deemed me worthy of saving, unlike the two dozen people he'd killed.

Even though it was strangely endearing, he was still a killer. He'd tried to kill me, he'd killed at least twenty four people, and he'd touched me inappropriately (never mind that I'd touched him too). He meant trouble. I would do everything within my power to never see his face again.

He was bad for me, he was bad for me, he was bad for me . . .

As I pushed the door to the hall open, I felt ready to move on away from Edward. He wouldn't be able to ruin my job, my relationships, and my life. I was in control of myself. Completely.

That was the case, until I saw that Edward Cullen was grinning at me.

I couldn't help but give a small smile back, despite my mind screaming at me to run away. When he smiled at me, it lit up his whole face, making his rich jade eyes twinkle like the stars. He looked at me as if I made his fucking world go round, and it derailed me, crumbled to sorry wall I had built in my head that separated me from him. My heart seemed to stop for a millisecond and my feet kept on walking towards him. I felt hot all of a sudden It was as if he had me under his spell; I felt tethered to him in some weird, unexplainable way.

I felt myself sit down. There were a few seconds of silence before it was broken.

"Hello," he said, his voice smoother and more beguiling than my mind could ever fabricate.

I forced myself to speak. "Hello." I hated how my voice quivered, my thoughts and feelings of fear plain for Edward to see. I subconsciously looked away, not accustomed to the intensity of his gaze. There were a few moments of silence, both of us apparently not willing to start the conversation. I managed to turn back to him, and fought a wince as he leaned forward across the table, nearing me and letting me smell his scent.

"It's not raining," he finally said. The way he looked at me— expecting a reaction, a response— made me choke back a laugh.

"You're talking to me about the weather?" I asked incredulously, my voice slightly hushed as though we were talking about other, private things.

"Yes." His stare wavered, worried. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No," I said.

Another long pause.

I wanted a distraction, like food. But I guessed I was early. Which explained by there were only five people in this whole room.

I sighed, half needing to know about Edward's fixation on me, and half wanting to hear his voice. "Why me, Edward?" I asked, biting my lips anxiously. "Why do you call meyours?" I knew I was skating on thin ice here, but there were witnesses here. Three witnesses. This place was safer, I guessed.

"Because," he breathed, "You're mine, Isabella."

"Bella," I reminded him.

"I know," he said. He winced a little. It was barely noticeable, but I saw it. "I feel this . . . _desire_ to possess you. That desire is stronger than everything and everyone else right now. Including _him_."

"Possess me?" I echoed, leaning away from him ever-so-slightly. That word was so strong, so territorial. Like there was a war going on and he was discussing tactics.

"Yes. In every way."

I whimpered softly, feeling the heat spread across my face, but this time, it didn't stop there. It seeped down my neck, until I felt the warmth across my chest. I didn't understand why he had this effect on me. Surely it wasn't just his perfect face, his mesmerizing eyes, the hardness of his jaw line, the smoothness of his voice, the lean muscles in his body . . .

My heart thundered in my chest; I was sure he could hear its frenetic pattern. I let myself lean closer towards him, taking a deep breath. I didn't know whether it was true or a hallucination, but I was sure I could smell _man _on him. I could feel myself get damp for the second time today. Edward Cullen somehow had control over my body and its responses.

And he had gotten me hot by saying only _four_ _words_.

I crossed my legs.

Edward mumbled something I couldn't quite make out. Then, after a pause, he frowned, his face now stony and hard. Almost like a brooding pop star, though Edward was more dangerous. Deadlier.

I shuddered, realizing that he had just had a private 'conversation' with his voice. Gathering up the courage, I asked him, "Tell me about the voice, Edward."

His nostrils flared. "Not you, too," he said, anguish lacing the velvet silk of his voice. He seemed to compose himself, and then he muttered to me, "I am _not _fucking crazy, Isabella."

The intensity of his voice threw me off. I gulped loudly and leaned back in my chair, trying to contain my fear. "I didn't say that, Edward. I just want to know about it."

He lifted his fingers from his lap and set them on the table between us, twiddling his thumbs. His hands were bandaged. There was another pregnant pause. He sighed.

"He doesn't have a name," he said in a whisper. "He comes and goes when he wants, and I can't control it. He . . . scares me."

I could see it, even though he was probably trying to hide it. He was scared, terrified even. A he paled, his eyes seemed to probe me even more, as if to check for signs of judgment in my own.

"How long have you known him, Edward?" I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the sound of his breathing, which was getting louder in his dread.

"Since I was twelve. He didn't start talking to me, _tempting _me until I was fourteen." Beat. "He was waiting for me to get strong enough to do what he said."

Pause. I licked my lips.

"What did he ask you to do, Edward?" I pushed, wondering if I really wanted to hear the answer.

"Everything he wanted. Sometimes he wanted me to eat a certain food. Sometimes he wanted me to steal. And other times—" his breath caught, and he moaned softly. "He wanted me to kill."

"Did you always do what he said?"

"Yes. Until Carlisle fostered me, I never disobeyed him. There was another voice, after that. A good one."

"A good voice and a bad voice?" I breathed, gathering more and more evidence proving that Edward Cullen was a loony. Yet I couldn't leave.

"No— the Voice and the monster," he clarified. "They used to argue." He must have seen the fear in my eyes, because he stopped, took a deep breath, and looked at me. "Are you afraid?" he asked, his eyes silently demanding me to answer.

"No," I lied.

"You should be."

He was right. I should be getting up and running away, back to Arizona, where I could find comfort and safety in my dad's shotgun and police badge. But there was a part of me that wanted to know everything, for Edward to open up more to me and let me inside of his head, for me to help him, _cure _him somehow. So I pushed again. "Where is the Voice?"

"Gone," he said. "After I got arrested and Carlisle gave me up, it gave up on me, too." There was a certain sadness in his voice. I wanted to hold him, but resisted.

"Do you still listen to the monster, Edward? Do you obey him now?"

"No," he said, crushing his hands into tight fists on the table. I scooted my chair forward and reached my hand under the table, letting it rest on one of his knees. He visibly relaxed, but only slightly.

"Why?" I prodded, feeling that I was getting somewhere with Edward. I wondered if any of the other staff knew as much about him as I knew in this last quarter of an hour.

"Because he wants you, Bella," he said. "Dead."

* * *

**[A/N] **Longest chapter yet(again). I broke my 8 page rule (again), and it wasn't on purpose. (y)

I'm sorry if this chapter is lame. It's one of my better takes. I swear, I tried. BPOV is so hard for me to write, because for me, this is Edward's story. And I love my Edward.

And please stop sharpening your pitchforks. It get me nervous. I know I deserve a punishment of some sort, but pitchforks? That's a bit harsh?

Reviewing (even to tell me off for taking so long) saves the jelly babies in the packet in front of me from long, drawn-out deaths. I'd especially want to know your names for Edward. I've had Killerward, Murderward, Mentalward, Strangleward, Psychoward... Care to add any to my list?

* * *

Arabella's  
2011-02-13 . chapter 8

Good ol' "Crazyward" is a staple. I used it often during Hide and Drink.

:)


	9. Yes

**[A/N]**

Falalala. For Lent I'm giving up self-depreciation._ Therefore, this chapter is the shit. Srsly._

Jack-the-Ripperward! LOL love it!_  
_

I'm considering updating every month; that way, you'll get excited when I post chapters early :D

And this one's dedicated to MarcieLV, because she endured my stupid rants on trivial matters.

* * *

"Yes."

**_EPOV_**

"Why me, Edward?" Bella asked. My eyes darted instantly to the source of her voice: her lips. They were small, yet plump, and colored a dark pink. Her bottom lip was slightly thicker than her top one, and it jutted out as she appeared to fight the urge to bite it. I watched her mouth open to form the words: "Why do you call me yours?"

_Isabella is mine, Ed—_

"Because," I hissed, barely able to control the annoyance in my voice as I interrupted the monster. "You're mine, Isabella."

"Bella," she interjected.

"I know, " I snapped back, realizing that I had called her Isabella just because the monster had. It was those little things that he could make me do that unnerved me. He crept into every aspect of my mind: my thoughts, my speech and recently my actions. I felt like I was not in control anymore.

_That's right, my boy. I call the shots. _

I stifled the frown that was threatening to dominate my face. He was not in charge of me, at least not when Bella was around. I had stopped him when he had wanted me to grasp her throat tighter, and I had stopped him when she and I were making out. Somehow, she gave me this strength to defy him, to challenge him.

"I feel this . . . desire to possess you. That desire is stronger than everything and everyone else right now. Including _him._" I spat out the last word, knowing that the monster was there, and he could hear me. I felt that, in Bella's presence, I could say anything I wanted to him.

I kept my eyes on her, partly to gauge her emotions, but mostly because her eyes captivated me. My Bella was so fucking beautiful; words couldn't even begin to describe her adequately. She had this air of womanliness about her that drew me in like a moth to the flame. There was a meekness about her, too. One that left me aching to hold her. Kiss her. Protect her. Fuck her.

"Possess me?" her little voice chirped, her mind on the same wavelength as mine, apparently.

"Yes." I breathed, my voice taking on a husky tone. "In every way."

I watched the blush creep across her face, feeling a silent purring sensation in my chest. I didn't miss the small squeaky noise she made as the heat sank lower still until it dipped under the material of her blouse. I wanted so badly to see where the blush ended— to lick and to taste— to find out whether the rest of her body was as good as the nectar of her lips. She fidgeted under the table, and I stopped a moan from sounding. I could almost smell the arousal that was written all over her face.

_So responsive . . . I'll keep that in mind when I fuck her._

"Shut the fuck up," I muttered, loud enough for him to hear me. Hopefully Bella couldn't. She didn't seem to respond, although I was clenching my jaw tightly, waiting for the response I almost knew the monster would give me.

_Hmm, I think I'll take her on your bed, Eddy. What do you think?_

I scowled. He would _never _take her. I would gladly die before he touched my Bella.

Bella.

As I mentally acknowledged her presence, my eyes flitted in her direction again. She looked hesitant, now. I watched her gulp and then meet my gaze. "Tell me about the voice, Edward."

I breathed in deeply, my eyes darting from one of her eyes to the other. Did she really just say that out loud? Did she want to have a fucking "session" with me?

The monster chortled, amused.

I groaned, "Not you, too." She couldn't think I was crazy. She was _mine. _She belonged to _me_. "I am not fucking crazy, Isabella."

Again, using her full name was effective. It somehow gave me a power over her, an authority even she couldn't deny. I liked it.

"I didn't say that," she whispered, leaning back on her chair. "I just want to know about it."

I paused, just looking at her, debating in my head whether or not I should tell her. My hands found themselves on the table between us and I fiddled with my fingers as I thought about it.

How would Bella react to the monster? Would she be scared away from me for good? Probably, yes. She would run away, never speak to me again. She would stay away from me, and that would keep her safe. The monster would never be able to touch her, not if she kept her distance from us. As well as that, she would probably tell Angela everything I told her, which would make her insist on me taking that damned medication.

_Isabella isn't like that._

He was right. Bella wasn't afraid of me, even though I had almost killed her. She was not the average girl, like Jessica. She had spirit, like Alice and Angela. She'd accepted that she was mine, and she had willingly come to me twice. She would not leave me. I knew it. And as much as I wanted to lie and tell her that the monster was a slave to me, my Bella needed the truth. I wanted her to know that I was not completely in control of myself all of the time. Perhaps that would scare her away . . .

I sighed. "He doesn't have a name," I breathed, "He comes and goes when he wants, and I can't control it. He . . . scares me." Saying it out loud to Bella was almost therapeutic, despite the fact that I felt like I was losing my power over her. The thought caused me to breathe loudly. I _needed_ that power.

"How long have you known him, Edward?" she whispered.

_We go way back, don't we?_

"Since I was twelve. He didn't start talking to me, _tempting_ me until I was fourteen." I gulped, reluctant to continue. "He was waiting for me to get strong enough to do what he said."

"What did he ask you to do, Edward?" she said, and I realized that somewhere during the course of this conversation the tabled had turned. She had the power over me. I was obeying her commands. She wanted answers; I obliged.

"Everything he wanted. Sometimes he wanted me to eat a certain food. Sometimes he wanted me to steal. And other times—" I stopped, fighting against a moan. "He wanted me to kill."

Oh, God. I wanted it _so_ _fucking bad_. I wanted to trigger the slowing of a frantic heartbeat, hear the futile cries of a victim, ignore the begging, feel the tears screams fight pain control bliss—

"Did you always do what he said?" Bella asked, snapping me back into the conversation. I was grateful for the distraction that her questions provided,

"Yes. Until Carlisle fostered me, I never disobeyed him. There was another voice, after that. A good one."

Even though it was stupid of me, I waited for the Voice to come back. Back in the day, I would be able to get his attention by just thinking about him, and then he would talk to me, try to persuade me, tell me that the monster was evil. He was long gone now.

"A good voice and a bad voice?" she asked. Her eyes were getting slightly narrower, as if she was confused or something.

"No— the Voice and the monster. They used to argue." I watched her eyes get slightly wider, now. She was obviously afraid, after hearing that the two voices I heard were not only speaking to me, but arguing with each other as well. I could feel my heart rate quicken. My breath hitched in an anxious anticipation. It was all too easy for me to say that it would be good for Bella to stay away from me, but I would not bear to actually watch her leave me for good.

I inhaled and exhaled, asking, "Are you afraid?"

"No," she said, but her eyes left mine for a moment, signaling her dishonesty.

_Told you she was brave._

"You should be."

She mulled over my words, probably agreeing. "Where is the Voice?"

"Gone," I said, frowning. "After I got arrested and Carlisle gave me up, it gave up on me, too." As painful as having the two voices argue in my head was, I still missed the Voice. It was nice to have had a choice in whom to listen to, to hear both sides of each suggestion . . .

"Do you still listen to the monster, Edward?" Bella asked softly but insistently. "Do you obey him now?"

_Kill her._

"No," I growled, in response to both Bella and the monster. I crushed my hands into tight fists, feeling both physical and mental pain as I imagined Bella dead at my hands. I felt myself shake in a mixture of rage and anguish. My breath came out as puffs, my chest felt tight, as if my ribcage was shrinking inside of me.

I felt a hand on my knee, and as I lifted my eyes to meet Bella I saw that she was leaning forward, her hand under the table. I let out a gush of air, her touch as calming as ever, even through my pants.

"Why?" she asked, and it took me a few seconds to remember what had been said before. Then I remembered. She was asking why I didn't obey the monster anymore.

_Because you're a pussy. _

"Because he wants you, Bella," I said, talking over the monster. "Dead."

She gasped, obviously not expecting that answer. She didn't remove her hand from my knee, though her grip slackened. Her eyes were wide and her chocolaty irises showcased her fear.

"I won't let him, Bella," I said. "I won't let him kill you."

She nodded, taking deep breaths of her own, as she appeared to gulp down her terror. She was scared of him. The monster had her in his web of trepidation. Any hints of color drain away from her face

_I will have her. Then I will kill her._

"I won't let him, Bella. You're mine, okay?" I forced myself to sound softer, calmer. I couldn't handle seeing her afraid. I was meant to be fucking _protecting_ her. "You are safe with me, Bella. Do you understand?"

_Liar._

"Yes," she whispered, almost inaudibly. Smirking, I took a hand and placed it over Bella's on my knee, humming a little at the softness and warmth that flooded through me as I touched her. She had such an effect on me; it was unreal. Although I flicked through moods too fast for my head to keep track of, her touch always calmed and centered me.

"What are you, Bella?" I breathed. I gazed at her, taking in her beauty and her blush and her eyes, feeling so confused as to why my angel choose me, of all the fucking people in this dump.

"I'm just a general assistant, Edward. Nothing special." She bit her lip, and fuck if I didn't want to lean over bite it for her.

"Bella, you're fucking special—" I started to say, when Emmett and Angela came in, wheeling the lunch to the far table. Behind them, a dozen or so people followed, and they spread out around the room, taking their respectful places. Bella's head turned too, and as she saw Angela she gasped and leaned back on her chair. I caught her hand before she could pull it away, feeling another jolt of warmth as our palms connected under the table. Squeezing tighter, I encouraged her to do the same, and exhaled as her small fingers grasped mine.

"I have to let go," Bella whispered, glancing from Angela to me and then back to Angela again. Her bottom lip jutted out as she anxiously gnawed at it.

I didn't want her to let go of my hand. I mean, it wasn't some petty romantic shit, but I always ached to be touching her. Now that I was, I wasn't eager to stop. In fact, I wanted nothing more than to feel more of her than her fingers. I wanted to run my fingers through her hair, trace down her sides, grab her flesh and nuzzle in her neck . . .

But I released her, knowing she was right. Angela was here, and I was sure that she would not react well to me, a sinful killer, holding hands with the very definition of innocence. She would likely prohibit my seeing her, and I would go mad without my Bella.

I felt the loss immediately, but feigned indifference.

"Hello, Bella," Angela said, approaching us. Bella turned, flushing instantly, and nodded her head in greeting. She pulled her hands onto the table and clasped them, looking warily at Angela, who was looking at me.

"How are your hands, Edward?"

"Fine," I said curtly, eager for Angela to move away so I could touch Bella again.

"That's good," she said, clapping her own hands together and looking between me and Bella. "Why don't you go grab something to eat, Edward? You must be hungry after skipping breakfast."

She obviously wanted to talk to Bella, to warn her about me, to advise her to stay away from me. If I protested, it would make me look rebellious. I didn't want that. I wanted Angela to think of me as innocent. A non-threat. But I didn't want Bella to change her mind about me. The monster kept repeating that she wasn't like that, but my head wasn't working properly. I kept thinking of the worst: what if she never came back here again?

I glanced at her, and saw her subtle nod. Standing and clenching my jaw, I briskly made my way to the lunch tray. The usual selection of pre-packaged food was there, so I took two chicken sandwiches, an apple and a bottle of _Evian. _

My stomach rumbled audibly. I took another apple and headed back to Bella. I stopped halfway, trying to read what Angela was saying to Bella via their body language.

Angela had taken a seat next to Bella. She had turned, though, so that the two were almost facing each other. Angela's head was close to Bella's, and her hand was resting on the back of Bella's chair. Bella herself had her head down, and even from here I could see that she had retained her prominent blush. She was nodding, listening to Angela, and then she looked up in my direction and hurriedly looked back down.

I felt my heart thump faster in my chest, but I pushed away thoughts of Bella leaving me. Sweeping back to my seat, I deposited the food I had cradled in my arms onto the table. After Angela muttered her goodbyes and went, I waited for Bella to look at me before speaking.

"What did she say to you?"

"Oh, nothing," she mumbled, dropping her eyes. I grew anxious. Ran a hand through my hair.

"Please, Bella," I whined. "What are you thinking?" I knew I sounded like a child, but I couldn't help it. Not knowing what was going through her head was unsettling. It let my thoughts wander off to places that I would rather not go.

"Nothing, Edward . . ." she began, fidgeting with her hands under the table. She looked up and met my eyes, seeing the insistence, and sighed. "I'm thinking about you, Edward. How you ended up like this. What you have." Her voice was tiny, virtually inaudible.

I closed my eyes, shaking my head slowly as I took a deep breath. "I'm not crazy, Bella. I don't _have _anything."

_You've got me._

"Edward, I didn't mean an illness," she hastily added. "I meant _family._"

I opened my eyes, seeing Bella chewing on the sleeve of her blouse. I only actually understood what she had said after her mouth moved away from the material, causing the fabric to darken a few shades with her saliva.

Family? I didn't have family. I supposed I didn't even know what the word meant. People who love you? People you like? People you hate but love at the same time? The word felt foreign and strange to me, like a new taste or smell. Whatever Bella's description of family was, anyway, I was quite sure I didn't have one. With my birth parents long dead, and various sets of foster parents gone, I was alone in life. Not that it mattered to me.

Bella watched me struggle to define the word and frowned softly. Even in her sadness she was the epitome of beauty, or softness. Thick, black lashes framed her thoughtful eyes in the same way a mount would frame a work or art; pleasing to look at but not distracting from the main attraction. Her hand tentatively reached out to touch mine, and I gasped, some sort of muted purr rumbling again in my throat.

"You don't have a family?" she asked, voice raspy as if there was something stuck in her esophagus. "Nobody comes to visit you? Sends you letters?"

I shook my head. My stomach grumbled loudly, and I looked down longingly at the food. I didn't want to eat now; I'd have to tear my hand away from Bella's to open the packets.

_Eat, you damn fool!_

"No," I hissed, widening my eyes as I realized I had said that out loud. Bella didn't flinch, probably thinking that I was answering the question that she had asked again.

"Well, I want to let you know, Edward, that you _do _have family. You have Angela, Mike, Jess, Emmett, whoever's on night shift . . ." She trailed off, looking right at me when she added, "And you have me, too."

I couldn't help my smirk, as I replied, "You're mine." They were quite possibly my two favorite words in the entire English language, next to _"I'm yours"_ when the phrase tumbled out of Bella's little mouth. She pulled away from my hand, nodding towards my food. I missed her warmth right away, but felt the pang of hunger and obeyed my body.

She watched as I nimbly opened both packs of sandwiches, and open the bottle of water on my desk. I took a few huge gulps of it, and set it back on the desk. I always found it necessary to wet my mouth before eating, even if the food looked moist and juicy. That was an old habit from prison, where I was almost always in isolation. They would feed me overly dry bread that was too dry to swallow without adequate lubrication.

I grabbed and sank my teeth into an apple, not by any means affected by stage fright.

"My sandwiches are in my truck," Bella stated, getting up to leave. I choked back snarl, instead opting to slide one of my sandwiches across the table to her.

"Don't go," I said.

She picked out the sandwich from its already open container and held it with dainty fingers. And then, a tiny bite entered her mouth, and she chewed delicately. I watched her as she swallowed, and traced the path of the food as it sank down her throat.

Did she know just how enticing she was?

I finished the apple in record time, a contented silence hanging in the air. My eyes never left her mouth, as I tortured myself by following each and every movement she made. I took another few gulps of my water and smiled to myself.

I could never tire of watching my Bella.

_Hold on, Eddy. She isn't really yours._

I growled, ready to mutter something venomous to the monster, but he continued.

_Remember what Tyler said? Bella has a _boyfriend, _fool. _

I opened my mouth to form a retort, but stopped as I remembered what that awful swine had said to me. He'd said that Bella had told him that she had a boyfriend in an attempt to shrug him off. I'd assumed that she had lied, but now… I wasn't quite so sure.

The mere possibility of anyone touching, hugging, _fucking _my Bella caused a rage to seethe through me. Not a hot one, but a cool, icy one. It scared even me. My grip on the water bottle tightened, and the plastic dug into my already bandaged palm, water trickling down my wrist and onto the table. I barely noticed it.

"Edward?"

Her voice was quiet, anxious, muffled. I actually struggled to hear it, unlike my usually perfect hearing.

"Edward?"

A shriek now, worried, panicked. I didn't answer her, distantly liking the way she said my name, the slight inflection surfacing in her panic.

My throat was rough. "What's his name?"

Her eyes bugged open, thrown back and confused by my question.

I sighed, clearing my head but unable to control the quiet rage inside of me. "Your fucking _boyfriend_, Bella. What the fuck is his name?"

She blinked. "J-Jake."

I pictured a boy, young and naïve, tanned with blonde hair, blue eyes. _Jake. _He sounded like everything I wasn't. Free. Careless. Stupid, maybe. I ground my teeth together, enjoying the rawness of pain. I preferred it to this cold rage. Red rage would die down eventually; blue rage threatened to simmer perpetually in my soul.

"Does he touch you, Bella?" I barely recognized my own voice; it was mangled and shattered in my throat.

"Yes."

"Does he _fuck_ you, Bella?" I asked, more desperate, frantically seeking an end to this madness, this coldness.

"Yes."

* * *

**[A/N] **ooooh, Eddy's mood swings are giving me whiplash! *rolls eyes*

You know the drill. Go save some babies!

Ahd head over to my profile and answer my poll; it may or may not shape how this story ends up! (wink)

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Ahsilaa  
2011-03-16 . chapter 9

Good god what is up with Edward?


	10. Watching Me

**[A/N] **Proper A/N at the End. I know how long you've waited for this.

* * *

Watching Me.

_**BPOV**_

I chewed on the sandwich, not really tasting the filling (chicken?) but merely going through the motions of eating. I couldn't help but notice Edward watching me. His mouth moved quickly as he bit off piece by piece of his apple; he was obviously ravenous and didn't care that I was watching him too. For some reason, I found the movements of his mouth quite entrancing. Every now and again, his tongue would dart across his lips, or his eyes would meet mine and . . .

_Stop it, Bella. _

Just ten minutes ago, he had told me that his monster wanted to kill me. Yes, I was scared. Yes, I'd wanted to run. Yes, yes, yes. But I couldn't walk away from him. I felt tethered to this chair, unable to move, unable to think as his silky velvet voice surrounded me, telling me that he would never let anything happen to me.

And I believed him. Apparently Angela's words hadn't put me off any more than my common sense had.

He smiled now, a tiny curve of his lips as he watched me. It was so easy to imagine that he was normalwhen he smiled at me like that. It made his eyes soften and lose the hard edge to them; a lion with the mannerisms of a kitten. When he was like this, I could almost forget that he had something wrong with him, that he heard voices and had tried to strangle me to death.

There was a soft, rumbling sound coming from Edward. His mouth twitched as if he was about to say something, but thought again or hesitated. I looked around me, seeing Emmett perched on the table behind Edward. He frowned: _Everything okay?_ I gave him a brief smile: _Just peachy._

I looked up at Edward. He was looking in my direction yet lost in his own world. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shut it again. My heart picked up pace, waiting for it, the smoothness of his deep voice. Nothing came.

I let out a gush of air, disappointed. _Not that I wanted to hear his voice,_ I told myself, _he might have had something important to say. _I peeled the crust off of the triangle and nibbled on it. Closing my eyes, I waited for my chest to stop thumping and cursed my body for acting irrationally. Would I be able to look up, look at his face, _into his eyes_ without reacting this way?

I tried.

But this time, something was off. His skin looked drained, even paler that it was before. His eyes were slits, barely open as he looked through me. This was different. Anguish.

"Edward?"

Water was dripping down his hand and pooling onto the table beneath his bandaged hand. He didn't answer me; he didn't even acknowledge that I had called his name. I bit my lip, searching his face for any signs of him going back to normal. Whatever "normal" was for him, anyway.

"Edward?" I raised my voice as much as I could without attracting Emmett's attention. The last thing I needed was him to come rushing over and take Edward away from me.

_Wait, what?_

I saw him gulp, and after the longest seconds of my life Edward snapped out of it and spoke, "What's his name?"

I almost jumped at the barking timbre of his voice. I was expecting the soft, strong and controlled Edward I was used to, but this was a different Edward.

I balked, not really sure of what he was asking me. He sighed, as if he were talking to an incompetent child, and elaborated. "Your fucking _boyfriend, _Bella. What the fuck is his name?"

I paused, trying to think back to when I had told him about Jacob. I couldn't remember. Had I?

"J-Jake," I mumbled, almost asking the name as a question. I was frightened about what this information would mean to Edward, what with him calling me _his _all the time. Would he flip? Go mad and tear the food hall apart like he had his bookcase? My eyes flitted to where Emmett was chomping down on a beefburger or something. Completely oblivious.

I couldn't bear looking at Edward's face. I hadn't seen so much pain on a man's face since my mother passed away. His expression reminded me too much of my dad, hanging on the last few threads that my mother left behind, looking hollow and incomplete, destroyed by the loss.

"Does he touch you, Bella?" came a shredded and soft voice. I could hear the neediness in his words. He needed an answer from me, as if what I said would quench his thirst.

"Yes," I whispered, my feet tapping lightly on the floor, my anxiety increasing.

"Does he _fuck_ you, Bella?" he rasped, and I shuddered.

"Yes," I answered almost immediately, mentally kicking myself afterwards. He was going to go insane. I knew it. He'd grab me, tightly, and say something nutty people said in the movies. _If I can't have you, nobody will. _Then he'd kill me, in front of all these people. All because me and my boyfriend, whose name I struggled to remember when I was with Edward, fucked.

Why couldn't I lie? What was wrong with me? Would it have been so difficult to have said no, or to have denied having a boyfriend in the first place? This was a life and freaking death thing here, and I just blew it.

I gulped, chancing a glance upwards.

Edward shivered, but said nothing. I blinked, waiting for him to speak, to growl, to do something, but all I got was blank. Like I was looking at a brick wall.

My head swayed to the side; I felt dizzy. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gave my equilibrium time to balance my body, and when I thought I was steady enough, opened them again. Edward was still blank to me, still shivering, still squeezing that damned water bottle though no water was trickling out anymore.

I reached forward, gingerly attempting to pry the bottle from his grip. I couldn't; he was too strong, and aloof.

"Not any more," he grunted. At the sound of his voice I quickly removed my hands from his, looking up at him with a mixture of guilt and confusion.

"Huh?" was my articulate response.

"I said," he said, "_not any more._"

It was my turn to shudder, as I understood his meaning. I was unsure of whether the statement was a threat or not, but he had said it with such authority and really, I had no idea anymore of what Edward was capable of. How the hell had he known about Jake, anyway? The only person I had told about my boyfriend was . . . Tyler. And he was long gone.

Plus, nothing had explained how the hell Edward had known my name the first time we'd met. He was obviously getting his information from somewhere . . . Was he stalking me? Did he know a way out of here and did he know where I lived?

_Holy freaking crow._

"I'll know," he said, snapping me out of my mental hysterics with a warning tone to his voice. I could see crazed flickers in his eyes, and, coupled with the sandpaper grit in his voice, I was afraid.

"Know what?" I whispered, knowing entirely what he meant. But half of me wanted to find out if he indeed _did_ stalk me. The other half was eager to hear him speak, despite the shivers he sent coursing through me.

"I'll fucking _know_ if he fucks you, Bella. You're mine. _Mine alone._"

I felt my skin prickle as my hairs raised along my arms. Edward growled softly, to himself, to his monster, probably, mouthing something I couldn't hear. His eyes then snapped up at me. Searching like a desperate man.

"Fuck, Bella. Say it. Say it, now." He hissed, teeth gritted in an apparent need.

I stuttered. "I-I-I'm yours, Edward." I didn't like lying to him like this, but what the hell was I supposed to say to him? The truth? That I _loved _my boyfriend?

As if he could read my mind and dishonesty, he growled. "Again," he commanded, taking in a loud breath.

"I'm yours, Edward." I said firmly, keeping eye contact for most of the short sentence. He closed his eyes and moaned loudly, causing me to look around to check if anyone had heard it. No one had.

"Louder," he muttered sharply, eyes still shut with a subtle smirk on his face.

I squeaked, raising the volume as much as I could without being heard by the next tables across. "I'm yours, Edward."

A long groan made me cross my legs. He opened his eyes.

"Isabella," he purred. "My beautiful Bella. I love how you say my name." I flushed red as he used long fingers to grab a triangle of his sandwich. His other hand uncrushed his water bottle so that he could get to the last splashes of water. He drank, then ate. I watched him quietly, seeing his fingers make quick, precise movements, not realizing I was staring until he caught me.

He smirked; a crooked smile.

_Hot damn._

"Oh, well, I should clean the table up. I'll go get a napkin." Red as a tomato, I stood, bumping clumsily into the table leg in my attempt to get away from Edward. If I could only distance myself from him, I wouldn't have the chance to _react_ to him. I needed to keep my boyfriend— my priorities— in mind.

Edward's amused chuckle followed me to the lunch table.

I shivered, vaguely noting the musical sound of his laugh and ignoring how it made me feel warm inside. What the hell was wrong with me, anyway? Why couldn't I just leave him alone?

I grabbed a handful of napkins and jumped when a hand rested on my shoulder. "Edward?" I asked, turning around to see Emmett, of all people, grinning at me like a fool.

"Shit, Bella," he said, his playful grin making me frown. "Did he have you that scared?"

"Well," I said, gathering up my best 'honest' face. "He's not even that scary, to be honest."

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical and with good reason. "Really? He's a dangerous nutcase, Bella."

"He's fine, Emmett." I said, feeling the blush spread and contradict my lies. "Just a little moody, that's all." Emmett stared at me as if I was the nutty one. I wrung my hands together, feeling the napkins coarse texture scratch against my skin.

"I dunno," he whined, eyeing me up with a mock suspicion. "Maybe he just has a soft spot for you."

I laughed at the understatement. "Maybe."

"Well, erm, just be careful, okay, Bella? You're on my watch."

I gave him a tight smile and a lame thumbs up. "Sure thing. Angela's told me the basics. I should . . . go back to him, now?" I asked, excusing myself only to find out that Edward was gone.

I sighed in relief and . . . something else.

I took to mopping down the table with the paper napkins, silently marveling at how much water Edward had poured out of his bottle when he spaced out. I wanted to know what he was thinking, what was making him act that way. And how the hell he'd found out about Jake.

Was stalking beneath Edward? I doubted it. He'd called me his since the first time I saw him, he'd somehow known my name and he'd just said he'd _know_ if Jake and I had sex. How the hell would he _know_ if he couldn't _see_?

Was Jake safe? I had no doubt in my mind that, if there were a standoff between Edward and Jake, Edward would come out unharmed. Edward had a cool confidence about him that reeked of hidden secrets and mystery. All Jake had was a cocky grin, brute strength and a lack of control.

I didn't want Jake to get hurt, or die. I loved him.

_No, _a little voice in the back of my head cried. _No you don't._

. . .

I was in the laundry room. After lunch hours were over and I had helped Angela to wash up, she had shipped me off to make sure everything was in order. Seeing as the Home only had Mike and I to do the ordinary work, there was actually quite a lot of work for us to get down to. Right now I had a list of people who weren't trusted to do their own washing.

Grabbing the detergent, I started loading Maggie's clothes into one of the machines. Angela told me that she had a habit of rooting through other people's clothes, trying to find out what they were hiding from her. I mean, I could really believe that, what with how Maggie was acting when I tried to talk to her at breakfast. Once I had sorted out that load, I put the box of detergent on the top of the machine and sighed.

My eyes wandered with a mind of their own around the room, with my feet involuntarily moving towards Edward's basket. It was exceptionally orderly on one side with all of his folded shirts, tanks, flannel pants, jeans, and boxer shorts stacked on top of each other in a perfectly symmetrical tower. Socks were all in pairs and in their own separate pile.

Looking to the right, I saw the pile of his clothes that were yet to be washed. They were messy and cluttered in the little basket, juxtaposing with the OCD-like neatness of his clean shirts. On the schedule on the wall, I noticed that Edward's washday was on Sunday, two days ago, explaining why there weren't many clothes there compared to Maggie's. My hand fluttered out to reach them, shirts, and pants, crumpled and aching to be touched.

I mentally slapped my hands away, ashamed at how I was about to snoop on Edward's life, as if he wasn't worth of privacy. I was worse than Maggie; at least _she _couldn't help her actions. I was fully aware of what I wanted to do, to pry into Edward's business and try and find out why one side of his space was spotless and the other was in disarray.

Screw it. Who would know?

I lifted up the first shirt from the pile, and then a pair of jeans, a towel, and some socks. Underneath them all, was one shirt, perhaps the same one from yesterday. I noticed some staining on the shirt and lifted it up by the shoulders to inspect it.

I paled.

Blood splatters colored patches of the shirt a thick crimson.

Heart thumping in my chest, I brought the shirt closer to inspect it. It was blood, _it had to be_, there was no other liquid that deep a red. How had this happened? Had Edward killed again?

Holy fucking mother of Jesus.

However the blood got there, it had to have happened between Sunday and today. I hadn't seen any cuts on Edward, so it can't have been self inflicted. Edward wasn't the type to do that, anyway. He was too clever, too methodical and detached to do that. It was only the emotionally unstable who had the tendencies to self-harm. If the blood came from someone, it would be another person.

Edward seemed to get a kick out of killing people. His moans were etched into my memory, his hand tight around my throat. He'd exhaled each breath shakily, in reverence. Yes, I could really believe that Edward had killed someone.

But would Angela have let me sit with someone she believed to be dangerous? No matter how understaffed this place was. I doubt that Angela would put me in danger. At least, not knowingly.

Had anyone disappeared lately? The only person who was here yesterday and wasn't today was Tyler, but Angela had said that he'd walked out mid-shift yesterday, not that he'd been killed or something.

I put the shirt back in the bottom of the pile and shoved the other clothes back on top, not able to contain my shivers. His other clothes went on top in hopefully the same order they were found. It was extremely likely that, because Edward took extra care in keeping his clothes neat, he would notice any change in the organization of his dirty basket. I didn't want him to know that someone was rooting through his things; I was ashamed.

I swiftly moved away and loaded two more people's washing in other machines, after loading the tumble dryer with the wet clothes.

On my way back to Angela's office, I stopped by my own room to have a little lie-down. I didn't bother to kick off my shoes as I rested my head against the pillow hearing the crumple of the file right by my ears. I was extremely tempted to open it up now, but I refused to; Edward had already told me a bit about his story, as well as Angela telling me that he had spent time in prison. If in only waited a while, I was sure Edward would open up more and tell me everything, which was the proper way to do things, I thought. I mean, I would rather keep things civil with him, rather than go behind his back.

I had such double standards.

Getting up, I headed up and out of my room. I didn't feel like resting any more; it gave me time to think about Edward and how I'd abused his trust in the laundry room and how he had blood on his shirt and why nobody seemed to know anything about it but me.

Angela greeted me and sent me off to make people's beds, but not before telling me that in a few days time the psychiatrist would make his biweekly visit and that I'd be allowed to sit in on a few meetings.

The rest of the day went by without incident. I helped with the preparation of dinner, once I had told Angela that I wasn't bad at cooking. Cooking for 50+ people was a major challenge for me, but I had Mike to help me out. He was . . . enthusiastic, to say the least, but I guessed that wasn't too bad when there were things to do.

"Hey, Bella," Mike called from behind me, on the other side of the kitchen. "Am I doing this right?" I rolled my eyes and turned around, forcing a patient smile onto my face. Walking over to him, I could see him mashing the potatoes perfectly. His sleeves were rolled up so that I could see the muscles in his arms contract and relax as he pounded the potatoes with vigor.

"Yes. That's fine." He looked back and me and flashed me a wide grin that reminded me so much of Jake a couple of years ago. Frankly, it made me uncomfortable. "Hurry up," I said, "There are loads more things to do before my shift ends."

There were only about thirty minutes left on the clock. It was an insanely long shift, from nine in the morning to six in the evening. My hours were going to be very tiring, but I got to have Sunday's off, as well as a few weeks worth of holidays per year. The money wasn't really all that bad, especially as Jake and I'd found our little cottage at a really low price compared to the houses and apartments in Port Angeles. If the worse came to the worse, I had a room here to stay in the Home, which was one of the benefits of working here. To be honest, the work here wasn't even strenuous.

I finished chopping the vegetables and put the pot on the hob, salting and stirring before turning to the industrial oven which held the seventy-odd steaks I had marinated and cooked. Opening the huge door, I remembered just in time to move my face away from the wall of heat coming towards me. Smiling at the juicy smell, I mentally patted myself on the back for a job well done.

Angela walked in, trying to hide a yawn. It was obvious that she overworked herself; she managed everybody and everything in this place, which was pretty amazing considering the massive gaps we had here in staff. "Great job, Bella!" she beamed, "How about you do this everyday? You're much better than me at this anyway."

"I know," Mike piped up, still mashing away at those potatoes with those damned short sleeves. "She didn't even need to look at the recipe, she just went for it."

I blushed, twiddling my fingers in the apron I was wearing. "It's nothing. And sure, I could do this, I guess."

Angela clapped her hands together. I was starting to notice how she often did this, and I wondered whether it was a habit or whether she did it to keep herself awake. "That's great. You know, you should have told us before that you could cook." She looked at her wrist, noting the time. "Well, it's about time for you to go home now. I hope today was okay?"

I nodded, removing the apron. "Yeah, it was great, no worries."

"Well, if you want you could take some of this food home with you. It'd be stupid for you to have to cook twice. We have some Tupperware in that cupboard behind you."

"Really?" I asked. "Thanks. Can I take some home for Jake?"

Mike turned around, a puzzled, disappointed look on his face. I inwardly danced; _now _he got the message to leave me the hell alone.

"Of course," Angela said.

I smiled and grabbed a container, filling it with some potatoes, steak and vegetables enough for Jake and me to eat. Mike and Angela waved their goodbyes to me as I headed out, and on the way to the exit Emmett patted me on the back and thanked me for relieving Angela of the cooking duties. Jess had already gone home and it was getting quite dark as I walked to my truck, opened her up, got inside and started the engine.

Her loud roar was reassuring. I felt freaking bulletproof when I was in my Chevy. The drive home was pleasant; I blared out some _Paramore_ on the short journey. By now, Jake was home, so I parked and knocked on the door, too lazy to root in my back for my keys.

He opened the door and we kissed briefly across the porch. I shoved the Tupperware into his hands and told him to put the microwave to good use while I went and took a bath.

Dinner was nice. Jake set the table as best he could and we sat down on the little table.

"How was your day, babe?" he asked warily, shoving a spoon of vegetables down his throat with the elegance of a warthog.

"It was great. Tyler left, so he's not a problem anymore."

"Great." He paused. "Did you cook this?"

"Yeah. My boss let me cook." It felt weird to refer to Angela as my boss, but she was.

"For the whole place?" He looked pretty impressed.

"Yep," I said, between mouthfuls. "And she told me I could cook dinner everyday instead of doing some other duties. I'm allowed to take food home, too." Jake pretended to pout. "What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes in a playful way.

"I like seeing you cook at home. Seeing your sexy ass wiggling as you stir turns me the fuck on." He gave me a grin and a wink, and I was instantly reminded of Mike.

I cringed.

"You okay?" Jake asked, all hints of joking washed from his face and replaced with a genuine care.

"Yeah, fine."

"Good. On Saturday, I'm cooking, though. I wanna talk to you." He grinned again, wide as anything, and I had the sense to hide my grimace this time.

I washed up, letting Jake take a shower or whatever the hell he did in the bathroom after dinner. I was so tired after the long day at work, I felt like just going to sleep early.

Jake emerged and walked to the little living room, gesturing to the TV remote as if to ask me if I wanted to watch something. I shook my head, mumbling how I just wanted to go to bed early tonight. He smiled and walked towards me, reaching out to drag a clumsy finger down my face, before pulling me to the bedroom. When we got there, instead of just letting me get into bed, he pushed me against the wall, pressing his body against mine.

"Bella, I love you so fucking much," he whispered, hot breath at my ear, his words mushing into each other in an incoherent fashion. I smiled, putting my arms around his neck and pulling him closer to me, feeling how he sported a semi for me and giggling. He moved his neck down so he could kiss me on the lips. It was not only hot breath now, it was hot kisses, and I moaned as he deepened them, running his hands down my sides.

"_Not any more."_

"What?" I mumbled, pulling away from Jake's eager lips and looking at him, trying to find out what he'd said.

"What?" he breathed back, moving his sloppy kisses down to my neck, grinding his hips into my belly, moaning into my skin as he got off on me. He nibbled gently on my sensitive skin, knowing how I bruised easily and making sure he was careful.

"_I'll know,"_ I heard. My eyes snapped open and looked sown at the chopped locks of Jakes hair, moving in time with what I was feeling.

"What did you say?" I grunted between shallow breaths trying to pull him up to face me. He fought against me, still suckling and nibbling at my neck.

He pulled away briefly. "Din't say anything, babe," he said, words mushing again, too lost in what he was doing to properly articulate his speaking. I leaned back as he slipped a hand under my shirt, fondling my breast as he continued to rub himself onto me.

"_I'll fucking _know_ if he fucks you, Bella."_

I froze. Edward. His voice was stern, reminding me of who he thought I belonged to, a silent _or else_ lingering in my brain.

"Jake," I hissed urgently, trying to push him off of me. "Jake!"

"Yeah, babe," he moaned, oblivious, grabbing my breast tighter. "So sexy, babe,"

I groaned, gathering strength to pull him away from me. He still wouldn't budge. I cursed under my breath.

"Jake, get off," I grunted, trying again to detatch him from me.

"Mmhmm, babe. You getting off, too?" His tongue lapped at my neck, making me squirm, and I pinched him, hard, at his nape.

He pulled off me, clapping his hand to the back of his neck, frowning at me. "What the hell, Bella?"

"I told you to get off me, Jacob. I want to go to sleep. I'm tired." I could feel Jake's saliva on my skin and shivered as cold air hit it. Walking to my side of the bed, I ignored Jake and lay down.

I couldn't have sex with Jake. Not now. Not with Edward's threat ringing in my ears, bouncing off the walls of my mind. I didn't doubt for a second that Edward would know what I did with him. Perhaps I was just paranoid, but for all I knew, he could be right outside the window of this little cottage bungalow, watching me.

* * *

**[A/N]**

Don't worry guys. I am still alive and breathing. Thanks for all the kind emails. What I've gone through this past month is a mixture of writer's block and family issues, mixed in with examinations.

The onlt thing that has really kept me going were all of your emails and reviews and whatnot. Without them, I'm sure this chapter would've taken another few weeks to get here, I love you all so fucking much!

Chapters are steadily getting longer and longer. You're welcome.

And don't worry, I will finish this. It may take longer than I hope but I _will_ finish this son of a bitch. Pinky promise.

I did laugh quite a bit when I wrote the ending. Oh, Jacob, you are such a douche.

Reviews motivate me, and will save Kate and Will's babies. Trust me.

* * *

rita263  
2011-05-01 . chapter 10

Gezz! Edward is really scary! This isn't a HEA story right? I can't image Edward not being a nutjob!


	11. Now

**[A/N] **I haven't said this in a while, but I don't own Twilight. Sorry about the delay... I swung the chapter around after it was written to allow for a plot. Mega giant-ass A/N to come.

* * *

Now.

_**EPOV**_

The shivers possessed me. Frost lingered within my bones, physically ripping through my body. I tried to hold them in, to disguise them, but the look on Bella's face told me that she saw them. She looked down, reaching for the bottle of water in my hand. Her touch sent waves of warmth through me, yet I couldn't move. Her fingers played at my fists, hot and dainty, the sensation juxtaposing with the pain my palm was feeling. The plastic was sharp, tearing through bandage.

"Not anymore," I vowed, my eyes finally hooking onto hers. I needed her to hear me, to hear this promise I was giving her. It hurt to speak.

She snatched her precious contact away, her soft voice questioning my statement.

"I said, _not any more._"

She got the message; she shuddered, lip softly quivering. Though, I was losing her, her mind was obviously drifting as her gaze weakened. More. I needed more of her attention.

"I'll fucking _know _if he fucks you Bella. You're mine. _Mine alone_."

She had that look of fear on her face. I loved it. I hated it. My body was still in tune with my desire to kill, my desire to enjoy the pain that I inflicted, both emotionally and physically. My mind didn't want her to be afraid; I possessed her. She was mine. How could it be that I wanted her death and her safety, simultaneously?

_You know as much as I do; she is not yours. _

I growled, discreetly, my toes curling in anger. Now, as I looked at my Bella, I saw another pair of hands on her. Touching, stroking, pinching, grabbing, tickling, squeezing, holding cradling. Oh, God. I grew impossibly colder. Shivered. Inch by inch, I was derailing.

I needed control. She was mine. Mine. I needed to hang onto that thought. It was the only thing that could tame me. The knowledge that Bella was _my _Bella.

The monster raised his eyebrows. Amused. Entertained by the effect of the doubt he had planted in my mind. "Asshole," I mouthed, feeling my anxiety rise until I could no longer hold what was left of my composure.

I snapped. "Fuck, Bella. Say it. Say it, now." Nothing but her voice could soothe me. I wanted to banish that damned monster. I could feel my jaw tighten in exquisite pain. I realized that I hadn't elaborated; she might not know what exactly to say to me.

"I-I-I'm yours, Edward," she said, with luscious fright-laced hesitation. For now, it wasn't enough. I needed her to be certain, for her voice to reassure me.

"Again."

"I'm yours, Edward."

Beautiful. I closed my eyes, savoring the silk that was her voice.

"Louder." I was aware that I was moaning, loudly. I couldn't help it. Her voice was cocaine; addictive, liberating, even. The monster was shrinking away, choosing his battles. He was no match for my confidence right now.

"I'm yours, Edward."

Had I ever mentioned to her how beautiful she made my name sound? I had never really liked my name at all, but now that it rolled off of my Bella's tongue, I loved it. I could only imagine how she would call my name in her sleep, against my neck, on the edge of release . . .

It was refreshing not to hear the monster's callous remarks.

No, I hadn't told her. "Isabella. My beautiful Bella. I love how you say my name." Eyes open, I relished her blush, the rush of fiery color to her cheeks. So fucking responsive. I needed to test that. My loins lurched in hearty agreement.

Stomach growling, I popped the water bottle back into shape and drained it, raising a piece of my sandwich to my lips. The food tasted more delicious than usual, but whether this was because Bella was here I didn't know.

I was very aware of her eyes on me. I couldn't help but smirk; she was looking at me. Involuntarily licking her lips as she watched me eat. Did she watch Jake like this? I hoped not. At least, not any more. I had promised that to her.

My mind was whirring with possible ways of making sure that never happened.

Bella's cheeks reddened further as she noticed me smiling. Her lips fumbled with an excuse to leave, and she clumsily knocked into the table in an effort to escape her embarrassment. My laughter did not help ease her humiliation.

Watching her speak with Emmett was difficult. One part of me, the dominant, possessive animal wanted to tear Emmett apart for even looking at her. The other part of me wanted to keep my distance, stay in Angela's good books. If I wanted to get out of here, or at least into a less secluded room, I would have to follow the rules.

I silently left the dining hall. It made things easier for me to handle; the temptation to kill Emmett was less tangible, simpler for me to ignore. It was difficult walking away from my Bella, but I reassured myself with the fact that I would see her again. Soon, if I could help it.

As I walked back to my room, the air felt extremely quiet. I welcomed it. I was still on such a high from speaking with my girl. As long as I was in this good mood, the monster was bound to stay away and the cold was sure to hold off. I needed to ride the wave of this, for my own damn sake.

Once in my room, I shut the door behind me, my body leading me straight to my keyboard. My hand didn't hesitate to turn the thing on, with my fingers making easy work of _Clair de Lune. _This time, however, my favorite melody was not enough. Heading under my desk, I uncovered the box of my own compositions, rooting through the loose papers in search of something that matched my current mood.

It seemed I had never felt free here before Bella.

I laughed, flicking through the box to find some empty paper. It wasn't musical, staffed paper, but it would have to do for now.

Picking up my pencil, I marked today's date and, on a whim, marked Bella's name. I never usually named my pieces, but her very name was beautiful. Too lovely to omit.

My hands glided over the plastic keys, finding a key I liked. But I couldn't stick with it; Bella was always changing. Scared, angry, nervous, happy, but always beautiful. I had never felt so musically challenged in my life, trying to find the right sound. One moment my tune was punchy, staccato, the next it was smooth, slurred.

But that was my Bella.

I don't know how long I was there, writing, transposing, but I hadn't had so much fun for years. I was even forgetting about the twitch in my stomach, begging me to slaughter an innocent.

Music. Beautiful distraction.

I was disturbed by a knock at my door. I ignored it, playing and writing still, trying to work out the kinks in my piece.

"Edward?" It was Alice, and she was opening the door and standing behind me. I could feel her presence. I didn't stop, still playing, adjusting the left hand accompaniment to the last part of the melody.

"You're writing?" she asked, her voice high, astonished. I gave her an affirmative grunt.

"Go away. I'm busy." I said, my voice back to normal, not the horrible painful scratch it was earlier.

"You're late for your dinner," she whined. "Angela'll get pissy if you don't show."

"Don't give a shit," I barked, finding it harder and harder to hold my concentration. "Busy."

"Why the sudden interest, Eddy? Who're you writing for, huh?"

I snapped my head back, the phrase I was playing veering off-key. "Fuck, Alice! What the fuck is wrong with you?" I lost my positioning, and my focus.

"Sorry, Ed, but—"

"Edward," I reminded.

"Yeah, well, you haven't played in a while and you don't want to miss dinner and you and I need to talk—"

I spun round on the chair, holding a finger up at her to silence her rambling. Sometimes, she spoke too fast, and it took a while for me to catch up. Today was not one of those days, though. She annoyed me.

_She annoys me too._

"For fuck's sake!" I shouted, remembering myself and quieting down. That was just great. The monster was back, and Alice insisted on talking to me.

_Temper, temper._

"Edward," Alice said, "Angela told me that your voice is back. Does that have anything to do with you playing again?

"No."

"Okay . . . Why are you playing then?" My hands were twitching now, but not to my keyboard. I desperately wanted to silence Alice, using force. In an ideal situation, I would kill her.

_Think with your head, Cullen._

I sighed. He was right. I actually didn't mind Alice so much. She was somebody to talk to who wouldn't talk down at me or try to shove medication down my throat. Killing her would likely send me back to high-security jail. Plus, I wouldn't ever try to hurt her, especially with the tazer she always kept around her belt.

"I felt like it." I finally answered, after a few long seconds of careful deliberation.

Alice frowned, obviously not satisfied with my answer. "Alright, then."

"Can I go now? I whined, like an impatient child.

"Not yet," she said, standing up and walking to my bed. She sat. "Come sit next to me."

"I would prefer not to."

"C'mon Edward. This is serious."

_Follow her. Be compliant._

I reluctantly stood. I had made my mind up already to follow her, but now that the monster had told me to, it felt like I was obeying him, succumbing to his will.

He chortled. Bastard.

Walking up to my bed, I sat at the opposite of the bed, as far away from her and the temptation as possible. Alice took offence, sliding closer to me.

"You beat up Tyler," she said in a low voice. It was not a question, but a statement, one I could not duck out of. Instead I stayed silent. "He was writhing on the floor, Edward. He couldn't even talk."

I couldn't help it; I smiled maliciously. That would teach him to touch my girl.

_Death would've taught him better._

"You're not denying it." Alice said, nodding her head. Almost as if she hadn't wanted to believe it was me, but knew it deep down.

"I enjoyed every second of it all."

Silence. A delicious shudder beside me.

"Why? And I want the truth, this time. If I'm gonna keep this quiet, I need to know what you were thinking. Your motive."

She was going to keep this from Angela? From Jasper? I was surprised. Perhaps she was afraid that she would seem inadequate if her favorite 'project' went bad. Perhaps she genuinely cared.

_Perhaps she wants you out of here as much as we do._

"You won't tell Angela?" I asked, voice quiet like a guilty boy.

"I swear to you. I shouldn't promise you that, but I do."

"Why?" I asked.

"Don't change the subject. Why did you beat up Tyler, Edward?" Like Bella, I responded better when my name was attached to a command.

"I was angry." I curtly responded, hoping in vain that she would just accept this answer and move on.

"That's a start, but I need the full story. Why were you angry at Tyler?" She was glaring at me now, offering no means of escape.

"I heard you. Talking outside. He . . ." I struggled to reel in my disgust as I spoke. "He assaulted Bella."

"And you think that warrants the beating you gave him, Edward?" Alice asked. I could sense her skills of deduction coming into play. She would add two and two together and find out that Bella was mine. She would note that I had started playing again. She would note that I had abbreviated Bella's name in conversation. She would note my evasiveness. And then she would proscribe my seeing her, somehow.

_Red herring._

"He was talking to me while we were eating. He said he wanted to rape her. I was disgusted and I just . . . snapped."

Alice was silent again, mulling over my words. I wondered if my answer was good enough to divert her attention away.

"I would've killed him."

_Ahh, she is on the right wavelength._

"Killing him was not a good idea," I grunted at the monster, impatiently. He was all about instant gratification, with no thought about long-term consequences. I was lucky that it was Alice, and not Jasper or Angela who had seen Tyler.

"It was a figure of speech. I didn't mean it literally."

"Can I go, now?" I asked, fingers fidgeting at the hem of my shirt. I flexed my shoulders and stood, not giving her a chance to stop me as I made my way to the door.

"Edward?" Alice said, causing my head to snap back at her reflexively. "Bella, huh?"

. . .

Dinner. An unfamiliar man, somebody from an agency of sorts, was filling in for Tyler. I didn't give a shit what his name was; he was just a face I would soon forget. That same face was sweating in his panic, obviously not wanting to spend some quality time with a guilty, convicted, committed murderer.

"It's in your best interest to stay away from me," I had told him, as soon as Alice had stopped him by my dining room. I hadn't spoken to him since, just locking eyes with him for the cheap, mild pleasure of his rising fear. It wasn't enough to mask the pain of my own need, but it was enough to distract my mind from Bella.

It wasn't that I didn't want to think of Bella herself. It was the thought of that swine, Jake, touching her that was the issue. I didn't trust the boy at all, even though I didn't have a face to put to his name. He was an obstacle. A threat to my possession.

_He needs to be dealt with._

The monster and I were thinking the same thing, but I wasn't sure of a reasonable way to let that come to pass. I would need to find a way out of here, which was easy enough, but then I would need to find a way back in, for an infallible alibi. I would need to leave no evidence, no tracks, and somehow find out where Bella lived.

_Not impossible._

No, it wouldn't impossible, but it would be very difficult, with too many variables.

_Pussy. _

"I'm being sensible," I mouthed, my lips barely moving. "Something you aren't so good at."

_You're just going to sit here and let him fuck your girl?_

For a few seconds, I was pleased that the monster had called Bella _mine_ and not _ours _like he usually did. But I was aware of his tricks. He was only going to side with me for as long as I was doing what he wanted. He wanted a kill, and killing this Jake character was a way for that to happen, with little or no resistance on my part.

"You're so full of shit," I breathed, earning a lovely gasp of terror from the nameless guard. Taking the distraction, I tilted my head to one side and narrowed my eyes, feeling his fear roll off him in waves.

_Is this how you're going to live? Feeding from these petty spooks?_

Alice entered, collecting the plates. She saw me and my predatory gaze, and just chuckled. "Lay off it, Eddy-poo."

I growled, cursing under my breath and stood, leaving the room. I didn't want to deal with Alice right now. She would definitely rub me the wrong way, especially since she might know about Bella.

I walked slowly through the hallways, not really with any direction. I was quite busy in my mind, thinking of an easier way to remove Jake from the equation without compromising my freedom.

_Kill him, stupid._

"No, _stupid_," I grumbled, sounding like a bickering child. It was annoying having to repeat myself to him. He knew that I wasn't going to go out of my way to orchestrate his death. I didn't want to.

_How else will you claim your Bella then, if she is being claimed by another?_

"Shut up. You won't manipulate me, anymore." I hissed.

"Is that what you think of me, Edward?"

I turned, seeing Jasper, his face turned down to a subtle frown. He didn't like me. Ever since the Alice incident, he had never liked me. It didn't bother me so much, only it was another hindrance here. Another reason to want to get out of here.

I stayed silent; I wasn't in the mood for a 'friendly' chat.

"What are you doing around here? This is the staff area." He looked suspicious, wary.

"Nothing."

"Really, Edward? You're doing _nothing?_" He walked closer to me. "Not looking for Alice, are you?"

He was really testing my patience. I know he was only trying to protect Alice, but it was bordering on paranoia. With Bella on my mind, and the monster in it, this was more than I could handle peacefully.

I stepped forward, getting into his space. My eyes were on his and a snarl was in my voice as I spoke, "If I were looking for her, _Jasper, _I would have found her. And then some."

I could feel the monster in my fingertips, twitching them, testing them. I was too busy to react, at that moment, too busy taking deep, even breaths. It was primal, an animalistic stand-off. I was not to show any weakness. Not to falter. Not to back down.

Jasper gulped, maintaining eye contact. He was obviously not accustomed to these confrontations. Most likely never set foot in a maximum security prison. Probably home schooled. He blinked rapidly, looking like he was in pain.

My shoulders rolled, feet shifting casually from left to right. I raised my eyebrows, only just realizing that the monster was trying to take control. And succeeding.

_Don't fight it. I won't do anything rash._

I didn't trust him. I wanted to get out of there. I needed to be in charge.

I struggled, façade calm and collected while my insides lurched to be in command. I was trying, but it wasn't working; when I tried to move my fingers I felt detached, disconnected with my own parts.

The monster hissed. Jasper recoiled.

Chuckling, the monster watched through my eyes as Jasper faltered, mentally kicking himself for losing the battle.

"Goodnight, _Jazz_," my lips purred sardonically, turning up in a smirk identical to mine. My feet lead me back in the direction of my room, chest puffed out and head tilted high in a false confidence.

"Let go," I whined, the sounds not quite making it past my lips, just caught in my throat.

_Not yet, pussy-boy. I'm very much enjoying myself, here._

"Go to hell," I gargled angrily, dreading the sound of my chewed up speech. The monster chuckled.

_You're coming with me, boy._

. . .

My room. Back in control.

The monster had fucked off to wherever he went when he wasn't with me.

There was a lot to think about. The monster had completely controlled me, something I was hoping he couldn't do. Part of me just wanted to let him get away with it; if I couldn't regain dominance over my own body, how would I conquer him?

I sat at my keyboard, laying a finger on a random key. It sounded. It was still on, which made sense. I didn't remember turning it off before I left for dinner.

I felt compelled to play something. A twisted déjà vu, the need to express the overwhelming emotion I felt. This time, however, I was not elated, not at all. I was frightened, scared out of my own mind. Frightened of the monster's capabilities, how easily he could take the reins.

Again, there was nothing in my box of compositions that coincided with my emotions. Sure, there were plenty showing the stabbing pain of when my desires reached their peak, and the temptation I faced every day of my mundane existence. There was even, thanks to this afternoon, a piece entitled _Bella, _about what it was like to be free, about beauty and fear. But there was nothing I could find that portrayed a feeling of rapidly falling, headfirst into relinquishment, becoming a puppet to a demon's every whim.

I cracked my knuckles, packing away my papers and putting the box in its right position under my table.

My fingers intuitively found my favorite key: B minor. It was my broody key, one I used when I was dissatisfied. My mind wasn't acting right though; as I wrote, I kept losing track of where I was. I kept forgetting phrases, confusing them, putting them in the wrong order.

I shivered.

The frost had returned.

It was like that old analogy. If you put a frog in a pot of scalding hot water, it would immediately jump out. But if you were to put that same frog in a pot of cold water and bring the pot to the boil, the frog would not notice the increasing temperature until it was too late for it to defend itself.

I was the frog.

_Ribbit. _

Shivering again, I turned off the keyboard, resisting the urge to throw it against the wall. That would be unwise. The monster was back, not trying anything yet, but his mere presence unnerved me. Made me feel anxious.

It was late. Around midnight. I wanted to prepare for bed. I stood up, my movements jerky and uneven, and made my way to my shower. I tried my hardest not to think of Bella, and what that swine Jake might be doing to her. That alone made my tremors more severe, the sensation of a frigid cold jolting down my spine.

I almost forgot that the icy chill was my anger. My disgust. My hatred.

_Here, little frog-boy. Why don't you just kill the boy and be happy with your girl?_

"Shut up."

_Oh, come on, Cullen. You know I'm only saying what you're thinking. _

"You're lying."

_I'm not going to argue with you._

I put on the light to the shower and took off my clothes. I grabbed the towel from its rack and flung it over the side of the shower door for easier access. I turned on the shower to an almost scalding temperature. Anything to rid myself of the cold reminder that Bella could be being claimed by another.

Bracing myself for the heat, I stepped in, cursing loudly as the water assaulted my skin. It hurt, very much so, and I was grateful for the pain. It was something to hold onto, something tangible to pull me away from possibilities I had no control over.

The most painful thing was that my plan had failed; I still felt the cold, in scornful harmony with the blistering hit lashing on my skin.

I needed a way to get rid of the cold.

_Think about it Cullen. It's logical._

When had the cold first happened? Whilst I was talking to Bella, but Bella wasn't the cause, I was certain . . .

It was extremely hard to form cohesive thought. My mind wasn't cooperating with me and, because he was grumbling at me in frustration, I knew the monster hadn't caused it .My mind was hazy, unclear, and thinking only made it worse.

But I had to push through. I needed to think, to end the cold.

I had first felt the cold rage when I had learned that Bella had a boyfriend.

_See? Therefore, the only way to get rid of the cold is to kill him. _

"I don't want to," I lied, ignoring the triple attack of the hot, the cold, and the twist of need in my stomach.

_Lies. You need to._

"But I don't want to. I will get caught, and that would mean maximum security for the both of us."

_It is the only way to get rid of the cold, _he pushed. _We must kill._

"No." I was getting tired of his arguing, and his constant disregard for consequences. I switched off the shower, fed up with the hot water and the pain it caused. Reaching for my towel, I patted down my hair, and dried my body.

The monster departed. He could see that I wasn't going to budge on this matter for now; there was no use pushing it.

After putting on some shorts, I got into bed. Pulling out the duvet from under the bed I covered myself with it too, needing all the warmth I could get to protect me from the cold.

The cold crippled me, even more so when I thought of how much I wanted Bella in bed with me. She would be so soft, her chocolate brown eyes so warm and inviting . . .

Warm and inviting . . .

I gasped, mentally kicking myself for not realizing sooner. The cold had gone away when I was with Bella, especially when Bella had told me that she was mine. In fact, the monster had gone away too. If I _took_ her, claimed her as mine in all ways, what were the chances that the cold would disappear forever?

Bella was the key.

I needed Bella.

I brought my knees up to my chest, conserving heat. Sleep wasn't coming to me easily. In fact, I felt wide awake as the chills whipped and nipped at me relentlessly.

I needed Bella now.

* * *

**[A/N] **/deep breath...

Alright. I won't go into much detail, but I've been going through a tough time recently. The only thing that has helped me through is music. And you guys. At times, I wanted to go back on my promise and just quit, but you guys, and Edward(fuck Bella, this isn't her story), deserve more than that.

Any music suggestions for me?

Also, head to my profile and answer the poll if you haven't already. I've redesigned the plot so that both options could happen, so it's up to you guys how you want this to end. And if you've got time, send me an email. I've been thinking of starting a little mail list to send you guys some teasers and progress updates, so that you're not completely in the dark about my updating.

Please leave me a review, I'd love to hear how you react to Edward's chills(it also, as you may or may not know, saves babies). I personally think he's all over the place, very volatile, completely unstable. Alice/Jasper? What do you think of them? A bit different from many fics, I'm sure.

I can officially say that you will love me for the next chapter, if all goes to plan. Heh, I'm not saying anymore than that.

I've been meaning to tell you this, but this fic was inspired by _My Darling_ by Eminem. I love Eminem to death. Also, _Labyrinth_ by Oomph! (both the English and German versions) had some influence too.

Fuck, I told you this A/N was long. I'll stop here.

Okay, I lied. Thanks for all the reviews, alerts and favourites! You all get cyber hugs from London!

Ooh, and before I forget. I have another fic that's really looking good in my head right now. I won't start it until this is finished, though, but all i can say is that it's similar... and different to this one.

* * *

katyaleighb 4/22/12 . chapter 11

So, it's bad when I'm loving how dark and crazy Edward is...

Please update!


	12. Just Go

**[A/N]** Remember me?

Plenty to talk about. Where to begin?

Thanks for all of your patience, kind words and support. Things are getting better for me now. I went through two bouts of depression since I last updated. I'm doing fine now, thank the divinities.

A feminist blog named this story particularly "disturbing". If you want to laugh/celebrate with me, link is also on my profile. :)

I told you I'd finish this story, however long it took. I hope my old readers still care. This chapter is a bit short, but it hits all the points I planned and you know how much I hate fluff.

More A/N to follow. You might want to go back and read everything to get it fresh in your head.

* * *

Just Go.

**_BPOV_**

I shivered.

Jacob, the horny bastard, had pulled the blanket from me at some point. I yawned, grateful that his arm wasn't draped around me, using the freedom to stretch my arms and legs and look at the clock seated on the bedside table. I groaned.

Three o'clock.

My eyes instinctively glanced to the window, squinting in the darkness. There wasn't much light, and the only sound to be heard were stupid owl-noises that always seemed to annoy me when I couldn't get to sleep.

I hadn't dreamt, in the few hours I had been asleep. It was a little bit strange to wake up feeling _empty_, my mind having not been active when my eyes were closed. Actually, thinking back, it had never bothered me when I hadn't had a dream. What was different now? Why did I want to dream now more than ever?

_Don't answer that._

I shut my eyes, trying not to think, trying to deliberately screen out thoughts. I didn't want to think about last night with Jacob, about him being so frustratingly _there_, about Mike and about Emmett's warnings, about bloodstained shirts and about Edward Cullen.

It was too late; he had invaded my thoughts yet again. Even while I was in bed with my freaking _boyfriend_ beside me, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

He owned my thoughts.

I shuddered in bed, not liking this feeling. I felt like my control was being tugged away from under me, and I was falling onto concrete.

Jacob snored beside me. I winced, delicately yanking my side of the blanket from Jake's grip to cover myself. He held fast to it, not letting go, and I groaned, cursing loudly. A part of me was overjoyed at the distraction— every moment spent wrestling with Jake for the blanket was a moment not thinking about _him _and how much he had taken over my life the past couple of days.

_Couple of days?_

Had it really only been two days that I had known about Edward? It seemed like I knew him forever, but now I felt more pathetic. If it only took Edward Cullen two days to ruin my life as I knew it, what kind of a farce was my life to begin with?

There was something about him, I reasoned to myself. Something that made me want to fix him, make him better. Since Jake didn't need fixing, all of my attention was going to Edward. Yeah. That sounded about right; plausible. I needed to fix him. As soon as there was some sort of improvement in Edward, my obsession with him would end. It was logical, really.

Although that didn't explain the way I felt when I was with Edward. My heart always thumped in my chest when he was near, both from the fear and the . . . the lust. Yes, he was undeniably sexy, in an effable effortless way. When we touched, it felt like I was pouring out my soul to him, not just holding his hand or rubbing his knee. And each time he said I was his, I believed it a little bit more.

Which explained why I couldn't sleep with Jake last night. I was too overwhelmed with the threats Edward had made and the possibility of him stalking me and the sexiness of his eyes as they'd pierced right into me . . .

Fuck.

I was screwed.

After one last futile attempt at snatching the covers, I gave up and rolled out of bed. My eyes darted to the windows again, before heading to the kitchen to get myself a glass of cold water. As I washed up the tumbler, I sighed, thinking that I would never get any sleep with Jake hogging the blanket. I would have to try and fall back asleep on the couch, using the blanket there, and then wake up to make breakfast.

Inner Bella was always logical. _Why not grab the blanket and head back to bed?_

Pfft. I knew the answer to that question. I wanted distance away from Jake. He was just _there_, you know? Too close.

But I still loved him.

I guessed.

. . .

When I woke up, I smiled to myself. I had dreamed. It was a damn shame I couldn't remember what I dreamt about, but I was sure it was about _him._

And that was surprisingly okay with me.

I got up, ignoring my body's protest and sticking with my plan to make breakfast. I was late, so breakfast could only be grilled cheese, which Jacob hated. Ha.

"Bella?" came his voice from the bedroom. He was still sleepy from the sound of his voice, but there was a hint of worry there, as if he had woken up and thought I had been abducted because I wasn't clinging to his side like a lovesick koala bear.

"What?" I shouted, hearing annoyance in my own voice and wincing.

"Nothing," he called back. I sighed, putting my breakfast on a plate and heading to sit down.

All of the little things about Jake that I had found cute were quickly becoming extremely annoying. His snoring, his temper, his awkward dress sense, _the way he breathed_ . . .

I guessed moving here with him was a mistake; it was too soon. I wasn't ready to be in such close proximities with anyone. I hadn't been able to manage it in college, and I sure as hell wasn't managing now.

I wondered how I would tell Jake this. I could mention it on Saturday, when he said he wanted to cook dinner and maybe have a chat about us.

In the midst of my mental deliberations, I misjudged a step and hurtled towards the floor, grazing my arm painfully along the carpet. My grilled cheese just _had _to fall cheese side down. I cursed loudly ("fucking motherfucker") and felt my arm for any significant damage. Not too bad compared to what I usually did to myself; only a mild friction burn. I turned around and saw Jake thunder into the room.

He looked as though he had just stepped onto something foul, his nose wrinkling as he stomped towards me. Grabbing my arm and hoisting me up, he frowned. "You weren't in bed last night."

"You were monopolizing the blanket," I said defensively, shrinking away from his grasp and walking to the kitchen. There was a silence, and I could feel Jake staring at my back. I snatched a wet dishcloth from the sink and hurried to clean the stain, completely aware of the silent tension that was thickening in the air. I felt dizzy.

"Look, Jake, I have to go. Your breakfast is on the counter."

I breezed out, almost running to my truck. The roar of the engine soothed me as I drove to the Home.

Tears ran silently down my cheek. I didn't know what they were for.

. . .

I was early.

Once I had composed myself and walked inside, Jessica, as what was becoming usual, attacked me with the latest gossip. There would be another general assistant joining soon. Her name was Rosalie. Emmett had whistled when he saw her. The psychiatrist was coming today instead of tomorrow. Making visits every other day. Angela's husband had the flu again.

I endured the drabble and walked into corridor. Mike, who was loitering right where I walked into, saw me and grinned, patting me on the shoulder. I shuddered.

"Hey, Bella! What's up?"

I fought the grimace and smiled instead. "Not much, actually."

"You're early."

"I know."

I looked around discreetly, trying to find some sort of escape. I could see the wheels turning in Mike's head as he struggled to find some way to extend the conversation

_"So . . ."_

"Yeah, well, I have to go now, Mike. See you around." I gave him another tight smile and shuffled my feet along in the direction of Angela's office. What was it with the men around here? Why were they so . . . in existence?

As I approached her door, Emmett's booming chuckle could be heard as he exited, followed by the most beautiful blonde I had ever seen in my life. Her hair was golden and perfectly wavy, her eyes were huge and framed by thick and curved lashes, her legs were long and shapely, and her feet strode effortlessly in a pair of twig-thin stiletto heels. I was instantly envious.

"You'll have to buy me dinner first, Emmett!" she laughed, her eyes twinkling in Hollywood fashion. Emmett stared back at her as he walked, rolling his shoulders and grinning widely.

"Alright then, how does dinner sound?" he asked.

"Boring." She looked over at me and stopped walking, flashing me an A-list smile. "Hey, you must be Bella. I'm Rosalie. I'll see you around, right?"

I didn't know how to respond to her blemish-less appearance. I just nodded mutely.

Emmett grinned at me, and held onto Rosalie's wrist, dragging her in the direction they were walking. "Dinner's never boring with me, I'll promise you that . . ."

The clacking of Rosalie's heels faded into nothing, and I walked through the open door of Angela's office. She was sitting down, her head in her hands, and I cleared my throat a little just to let her know I was here.

"Ah, hello, Bella. You're a little early, but of course that's perfectly fine."

"Hey," I greeted. "What's up? I heard Ben was sick again; I'm sorry."

"Yes, well, he's always been susceptible to illness; I guess we're used to it now." Angela picked herself up and clapped her hands together, standing up and tucking her chair in. "Well, seeing as you're here, you can just go ahead and meet Dr. Lahote, the psychiatrist. You'll be sitting in a few of his meetings today and taking some notes for whatever personal research you want to conduct. The first, I suspect, will be Edward Cullen's."

I flushed red, averting Angela's gaze. She chuckled softly.

"He obviously has taken a liking to you, Bella," she beamed. I nodded sheepishly, and looked at her. She didn't have any maliciousness in her eyes so I sighed in relief.

"I know," I squeaked. "I think he's a good guy, Angela."

"I know he is, but he just isn't responding to the help we're trying to give him. Do you remember what I told you, Bella?"

I gulped. "Yes, but I don't know if he'd listen to me—"

"He will, Bella. I've worked with Edward for a few years now. He doesn't let anyone in, but he has let you in. We think he's even _written_ something for you, for heaven's sake."

"Angela, I don't think—"

"Look, he's safe. He hasn't hurt anybody in an extremely long time. He wouldn't _touch _you, Bella, I promise. All you have to do is be there for him, and just _suggest_ the medication when the time is right."

I sighed. "He's written something for me?" I squeaked. I'd seen Edward's keyboard in his room, of course, but to think that I'd been on his mind enough for him to feel compelled to write something for me . . . that was crazy.

"Well, it had your name on it. Bella, as soon as Edward gets back on his meds, he'll feel a lot better. I doubt his voice will disappear forever, but he will be able to ignore it. He's already doing well, only his voice has come back from hiding or something."

I gulped, knowing that Edward's monster had never disappeared. "Okay, Ange, I'll try my best."

"Thanks, Bella."

I swallowed a lump of air and muttered goodbye to Angela, before leaving. If Edward had truly written something for me . . . I wanted to hear it. I wanted him to play it for me. I glanced at my watch and made sure it was still earlier than my official working hours, and without giving myself time to restrict myself I walked along in the direction of Cullen's room.

It was all a part of my plan to restore things to normality. The moment I saw Edward make some progress, he wouldn't be in my mind all the time. It had to be the reason why he was always in my head, always lurking in the back of my thoughts. And even Angela said it: I was the only one who could get through to him. The only one he was letting in. That had to mean I was allowed to take some things into my own hands. It had to explain why I was so _drawn _ to him like I was.

_Whatever, _ I thought, tossing logic to one side. I had plenty of time to think about all of that later. Right now, I was at Edward's door, and I was about to knock.

I tapped on the door lightly five or six times, so quietly I was unsure if he could have heard it. Shaking my head and cursing my fluttering heart, I rapped on the door again, a little harder this time, and looked around to make sure that nobody could see me. I didn't know what I could have said to try to justify my being there.

After not getting a response, I tried the door. It was locked, and I sighed, turning my back and making out to leave.

My stomach dropped slightly. Unsurprisingly, I was feeling a little disappointed and although the reaction was expected it still floored me a little bit. This was day three of knowing Edward, and he was having such an effect on me, my emotional wellbeing,

Fuck.

As I stepped away from the door, intent on going to find this Dr Lahote, I heard movement. It was a shuffling, then the shifting of metal; the door was unlocking. From the inside.

My head jerked sharply towards the door, and my heart sped up. I gulped down saliva I didn't know had built up, before watching anxiously as the door creaked open.

He didn't appear at the door.

It was simply left ajar.

I didn't know what to do. Was that an invitation to come in? He didn't even know who it was, whether I was Angela or Emmett or Mike . . .

_Fuck it._

I stepped up and pushed the door, quickly entering and shutting the door behind me before I could change my mind. He was on the bed, readjusting the mattress and then he was coming towards me, grabbing both of my wrists with his hands and looking into my eyes. "Isabella . . . "

I shuddered, not bothering to correct him. He had seemed annoyed when I had corrected him before.

"Hello, Edward," I breathed. He was bending over me, and his face was inches away from mine. A strangled noise escaped his lips and I asked him, "Is everything alright?"

He didn't answer, but his lips twitched. Which of course made me want to put mine against them. I pulled away from his grip to turn to the keyboard but he pulled me back, and I crashed against his chest. He smelled of spices and cinnamon and man and cleanliness, a very welcome change from Jake's musty smell.

Edward's hands let go of mine and moved to the small of my back, gently pressing me even closer to him. He cursed under his breath, something that sounded like "_so fucking warm_."

I don't know how long he held me for, but after a while his rigid frame relaxed and he kind of melted into me. His breathing was steady and deep, almost as if he was inhaling my hair, my smell.

"Edward," I murmured into his chest. I didn't think he heard me so I repeated myself. Twice. Finally he responded.

"If I had my way, you would never leave here."

I didn't know what to say. He seemed docile at the moment, but had he not destroyed a bookcase in some fit of rage only yesterday? Was I supposed to promise him that I would stay here, even though the prospect was impossible? Or was I meant to tell him that it wasn't possible and risk him getting angry and possibly hurting me?

I chose neither, instead deciding to stay silent. I tested the strength of his hold by leaning back a little bit. He didn't protest.

"That _Jake_ bastard would be dead, too."

I was shocked, and broke apart from him, looking up at his face. "Why, Edward? Why do you want him dead?"

"You're intelligent, Isabella. Work it out."

I gulped, and he heard it. His eyes looked hungry, and it was a little scary to see him like this. One second he was caring, cuddling, and the next he was back to the hunter, sleek yet menacing in his cold, harsh remarks.

I took a step back. He closed the gap, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"_God_, Isabella. You're not making this easy. You look like such easy prey."

"What do you mean, Edward?" I squeaked, feeling my cheeks redden under his intense stare. "Prey? You're not going to—"

"And those eyes . . . I can read your fear like sheet music . . . what an enchanting melody . . . "

He was growing distant, I could tell that for sure. I was frightened now, and it seemed like he was thriving from the fact.

"Don't hurt me, Edward," I whimpered, images of the splattered clothes from the laundry basket jumping to the forefront of my frantic mind. How exactly had that blood gotten there? Having these unanswered questions float about was not helping my fear. Not at all.

"Isabella, I wouldn't _dream_ of hurting you," he said, walking around so that he was behind me. I turned to face him, and he walked forward, shepherding me to his bed until I was sitting on the edge of it. He smiled. It was slightly sinister.

"Did you know, Isabella, that the mere sight of you excites me? In so many ways, you have _no idea."_

I took a deep breath in and then out. Heat spread across my face. He noticed, rubbing at the back of his neck. The muscles in his arm tensed, reminding me of his strength.

"What are you, Isabella?"

"Yours."

"You're mine. Don't let anybody else tell you otherwise. You belong to me."

Suddenly the cold left his face. All hints of the hunter were gone in an instant, and he staggered backwards, letting out a confused cry.

"Bella," he croaked. "Bella I'm so sorry."

I sat there, in shock. My heart thumped wildly as I tried to process exactly what had just happened.

"Edward?"

He wouldn't look at me. His arms were tensed in what looked like fear, and he walked further away from me. He wouldn't look at me.

_"Edward?"_

Silence.

I stood up, taking small, deliberate steps towards him. He backed away from me until his back hit the wall with a painful thud. He whined, sliding down the wall, his disheveled hair masking his face.

I stood two faces from him, and debated mentally about whether I should kneel down to his level or not. He seemed really unstable, his mood inconsistent and, quite frankly, scary. If I left, it would be the safest for me. I would still see him later, and I could check then whether he was back to whatever 'normal' was for him.

But I didn't want to leave him. He seemed so weak and scared, and all I wanted to do was comfort him and tell him everything would be alright. My stomach lurched as I thought of leaving him in this condition.

I knelt down and tried to get to his eye level. His gaze was downwards, so I still couldn't quite see what was going on in his head.

"Leave," he breathed, voice barely audible.

I recoiled. "But Edward, what's—"

"Just Go."

* * *

**[A/N] **There you go. I had planned for some lemons in this chapter, but I thought I'd let you suffer some more. This alternative serves my plot better, anyway.

Edward next!

I guess the babies have grown up since my last update... so reviewing saves toddlers! Save them! And Happy Halloween!


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